by Ken Brosky
“I have a better idea.”
“What?”
I smiled. “How about we save the world?”
Two hours later, we were in Seth’s car, driving northwest toward Minneapolis. Briar sat in the backseat beside a big cooler filled with sandwiches, canned orange juice, carrots, and cookies. There was also a bag of sweet potato chips and a bag of marshmallows sitting in the empty back seat. Briar had quickly discovered the marshmallows and declared them his new favorite food.
“OK, so your mom thinks you’re spending the night at my house,” Seth said. “Right?”
“Right.” I adjusted my bra under my top. I was wearing a sports bra and a faded brown Rolling Stones t-shirt that I hoped would help me blend into the crowd of rock fans. I didn’t have any jeans with holes in them, but I did have a pair of unattractive sweatpants that at least got the color right: black.
“And my parents don’t care where I am most of the time.” He laughed. “I guess we don’t have to worry about getting grounded over this. I still don’t know where we’re going to stay tonight.”
“We’re camping,” I said. “Right here in the car. It’s an adventure, Seth.”
“It’s going to be uncomfortable, Alice,” he said, mimicking my excitement. “At least tell me what’s going on. Please. I’m so clueless right now.”
“Briar, would you do the honors?”
Briar cleared his throat. “There is a Corrupted fiddler who was once married to a princess. They broke up, presumably because the fiddler’s heavy drinking caused problems. The princess loves music and so, in order to intentionally hurt her, the fiddler plans to steal all of the music from the planet.”
“Oh.” He pulled into the left lane, speeding up just a little bit. “So just your run-of-the-mill scorned ex-boyfriend, then.”
“Pretty much,” I said.
“Do you think he can really do it?”
I shrugged, watching corn crops pass by along the highway. “He’s going to try his best. He’s already stolen music from who knows how many people. I just hope we can get it back.”
“How would he pull it off?”
“My best guess,” said Briar, “is that his guitar—that is to say, his modified fiddle—will have the same power over anyone watching the farewell show. He is no doubt banking on the farewell show being passed around.”
Seth snapped his fingers. “Oh, right! So the video goes viral, and pretty soon everyone is losing their music.”
“And no one will remember it happening,” I added.
“Pretty devious. Holy crap, I’m totally freaked out now. We need to listen to some killer tunes stat.” His hand reached out for the volume dial on the radio. He turned it up just a little bit. “Dancing Queen” by Abba was playing on the radio. Seth started singing along.
Kinda.
“Seen that girl,” he sang out of tune, “watch her scream, kicking the dancing queen!”
I laughed. “Those aren’t the lyrics, you bonehead.”
“Sure they are.”
“No. Listen.” I turned up the music louder, then sang along to the chorus: “Sea of whirl, witching scene, within the dancing queen!”
Briar and Seth both started laughing. “That’s not even close!” Seth exclaimed. “Briar, you wanna give it a try?”
Briar waited for the next chorus. “I do believe they’re saying Sea that curls, within seas, tickle the dancing queen.”
We all laughed.
“OK, more,” Seth said, changing the radio. A classic song from The Killers came on. Seth started singing, “He doesn’t have to eat his Cheese Nips …”
Briar’s paw found the Seek button, changing it to an oldies station where Creedence Clearwater Revival was playing. “There’s a bathroom on the right!” he exclaimed with glee.
I switched over to a rock station playing the Rolling Stones. I recognized it and sang along, “I’ll never leave your feast ‘a burnin’!”
By the time we arrived in Minneapolis, it was dinner time and all of our voices were hoarse from singing. Minneapolis sat right beside the city of St. Paul, and together they were a sight to behold: two cities scrunched up together; tall skyscrapers, some of them with rounded tops and some of them with staircase-like corners; a beautiful river filled with white sailboats. We made our way into the city, guided in no small part by Briar’s intrepid map. We knew where the show was going to take place: The Triangle. We knew what was going to happen: certain doom.
What we needed next was a place to picnic. We found it after we got off the highway. In fact, you couldn’t miss it. We knew it was the best place to picnic because the park contained a giant cherry. To be more specific, inside the park was a sculpture of a giant spoon with a giant cherry, a sculpture so fantastic that Briar declared it “A great place to eat our sandwiches.” And while Briar wouldn’t be able to enjoy his meal in public, he’d solved that problem easily enough by nearly eating the entire bag of marshmallows on the trip up.
“This is a good sandwich,” Seth said. We were sitting on the fresh-cut grass using the cooler as a table. I’d packed a turkey-and-Swiss sandwich for myself and a turkey-ham-Swiss-mustard-onion sandwich for Seth. Somewhere during the car ride, when he’d taken a break from the marshmallows, Briar had eaten his ham-tomato-cookie sandwich.
“My sandwich could have used mustard,” I said. Over by the giant spoon, a handful of kids were running around like crazy, along with more than a few teenagers. They were playing tag. Not the kind of tag Briar and I played, where I was expected to pretend Briar was a Corrupted and had to tap him with a stick—no, these kids were just playing tag for fun. I envied them.
“How was your date?” Seth asked, breaking me from my daydream.
I shrugged. “He’s definitely a track guy.”
He raised an eyebrow. A snicker came from the invisible rabbit.
“I guess he might be OK,” I said. “I don’t want to judge too much from one date. And maybe he has a point about the library being kind of nerdy. I mean, I am a senior now. I should at least try to be cool, right?”
“Coolness is overrated,” Seth muttered, taking a monster bite of his sandwich. “You think Joey Harrington is going to be cool after he graduates? Pfft! More likely he’s gonna be in jail.”
I laughed. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Don’t settle,” Seth said. “And don’t make excuses for Ted.”
“OK.” I shook my head. “It’s so easy to forget that.”
“So do you like doing this?” Seth asked. “I mean, the whole saving the world thing?”
I shrugged, picking at the potato chips. “I’m pretty sure I have to, regardless.”
“Yeah but how long are you going to do it? Are you still going to college to be a nurse or whatever?”
“I’d like to be a nurse.” I took a bite of my sandwich, thinking. This wasn’t something that had been crossing my mind as much as it should. Everyone was talking about what they were going to do next year. Everyone in school was planning for tests and entrance exams and entrance essays.
“But how?” Seth asked. “I mean, these dreams just come out of nowhere, don’t they?”
“Yeah …”
He shook his head, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Well, you can always count on me to help. All I want in exchange is the opportunity to chase the giant rabbit with a vacuum cleaner.”
Beside us, there came the unmistakable sound of a snort.
Seth smiled. “I’m only kidding. No vacuums. Why is Briar invisible? Can’t he just, like, show himself to certain people?”
“Yes …”
“I would rather be safe than sorry,” came Briar’s voice. “Slip-ups in public can have disastrous and … peculiar consequences.”
I smiled. “Especially if you accidentally show yourself to a kid. You’d scar him for life.”
“Hey Briar, guess what?”
“What?”
“Chicken butt.” Seth smiled at me.
“I …
er … um.”
“Guess why?”
“Why? I don’t even know—”
“Chicken thigh.”
“Alice, what is he talking about? Why is he mentioning parts of a chicken?”
Seth chuckled. “But seriously, I’ll help you guys whenever you need me. You know, maybe there aren’t that many Corrupted left anyway. Maybe you can stop them all and then you can still get your nursing degree.”
“Maybe.” I stared at my half-eaten sandwich, hardly convinced.
“Or maybe you and me and Trish can still go to college together and you can just fight some Corrupted on the weekend.”
I took a sip of my orange juice, trying not to get my hopes up. There were still so many names not crossed out in the Grimms’ Fairy Tales book. But maybe not every hero had crossed out the names. Maybe Seth was right.
Maybe.
Chapter 6
We parked a block away from The Triangle, biding our time with a very long game of “I Spy” and finishing off the bag of sweet potato chips. For a moment—just a moment—I forgot all about what was waiting in the bar and enjoyed myself. Here were my friends, I guess: a heavy metal nerd and a giant rabbit. All we needed was Trish and then it would be a party.
But if Trish were here, she and Seth would fight. And how would she handle all of this? Probably not too well.
By the time Seth and I finally guessed what Briar had spied—it was an empty bottle of soda sitting in the gutter at the end of the block—night had already fallen. Cars began parking along the curb on both sides of the street, and young men and women dressed in tight pants and expensive-looking shirts walked down the street to The Triangle.
“I guess I under-dressed,” I murmured, watching another couple get out of their car on the other side of the street. They looked very college: short, styled hair and outfits that looked like they came from Gap. One of the girls was wearing a pair of tight, dark blue jeans with a gold “B” embroidered on the butt. “I thought these guys were a rock band.”
“They play a lot of stuff,” Seth said. “Everyone likes them.”
All of the buildings on this side of the block were sketchy old things, warehouses mostly, but a few empty storefronts as well. Plenty of places for a trap. Keeping Briar’s teachings in mind, I tried to look beyond the basics, to the nitty-gritty details that would let me take firmer control of my surroundings. Let’s see … one of the empty storefront windows was cracked, there was a thick gutter drain hanging from the two-story building on the corner, and—oh yeah—of the three big green dumpsters in the alley, two were filled to overflowing …
“Man this is so insane,” Seth said. He tapped on the steering wheel a few times. “These Corrupted monster guys totally think they’re going to have the last laugh? Ha! He who laughs most laughs last.”
“I do believe the saying is he who laughs first … laughs the most,” Briar corrected.
Seth thought about it, then shook his head. “No, I think the person who’s laughing the most is going to be the one who laughs last.”
“Yes, but the person who starts laughing first is most likely the one who will laugh the most. By definition.”
“Yeah,” Seth said, “but whoever laughs last is the important part. Because it means the other person stopped laughing.”
“OK both of you knock it off,” I snapped. “I’m trying to focus.”
“I suspect there will be many people,” Briar said.
“Gee, ya think?” Seth asked. “Duh, rabbit. These guys are, like, total recluse geniuses. No one knows much of anything about them, except that their music is crazy. They didn’t even have a website before they planned this farewell concert.”
“He’s going to use that video feed to steal music from all over the world,” I mused, watching a couple scurry across the street. “We need to smash that fiddle.”
“We should have done this sooner,” Seth said. “Now there’s all these people and they’re totally gonna die.”
“No one’s going to die,” I told him. “And coming early wasn’t an option. They lock the doors between shows.”
“Ah!” Briar exclaimed. “An excellent detail remembered from your dream. No doubt a skill taught to you by a certain rabbit.”
I looked over my shoulder. “You ready?”
Briar nodded. He reached up and pulled his ears back. “As ready as I shall ever be, dear hero.”
I got out of the car and made my way across the street, watching Briar scurry between two of the rusty old warehouses.
“Watch the dumpsters!” I whispered to the dark shadow. Why hadn’t he turned invisible yet? No matter. The Corrupted could see him regardless. “You can climb up the gutter drain on the next building!”
“Use a gladius!” Seth called out from down the street.
I cringed, waving him away. He pulled out of his parking space, and immediately an old green Toyota took his place. Five hip-looking young people got out, hurrying across the street.
“Come on!” one of the hipsters called out to me. He adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses. “They’re only letting a hundred people in!”
“Oh crap,” I said, hurrying with them. I hadn’t even expected not to get in. Cripes! This was the beginning of music’s doomsday, for crying out loud.
When we reached the door, I recognized the bouncer as the bartender. He was eyeing everyone’s clothing before he let them in. “No pictures,” he said to every single person he let in. “No pictures. No pictures. No pictures.” He got to me, eyeing me up and down. “You twenty-one?” he asked.
I shook my head.
He sighed, scratching at his monstrous right ear. “No drinking tonight. No pictures, either.”
“OK, I promise.”
He held me there a moment more, then raised his slightly glowing, overly hairy arm, letting me inside.
It was exactly like my dream, only the ceiling lights had been dimmed so that the handful of stage lights on the other end of the room bathed the empty drum set in a glow. The pool tables were pushed to one side of the room. Dozens and dozens of people stood in front of the stage, squeezing up against the booths, squeezing around the bar waiting for the bartender to return so he could make them drinks.
“This place is so crazy.”
I turned around. It was the hipster with the thick glasses again. He adjusted them, then licked his thin lips. “You want a drink? I don’t touch the stuff myself. Not anymore. But I could get you one if you want.”
“No thanks,” I said. I glanced around. “Although a bathroom …”
He nodded. “I got ya. Need to freshen up and the like.”
That, and maybe draw a sword in the wall. “Yes. I need to freshen up.”
“That’s a nice purse.”
“Hmmm? Oh. Thanks.” I looked down at my little gray handpurse. It really wasn’t a nice purse. It was old, another disposable bag that I could throw away without shedding a tear if the situation got out of hand. If this whole saving-the-world thing kept up, pretty soon I’d have the entire bottom section of my closet cleaned out.
To our left, the door shut. The bartender twisted the knob in a strange way, then walked over to the bar and started mixing drinks. The door was locked now. There was no escape. If Briar didn’t succeed with his part of the plan, there might be bloodshed.
“Whoops, too late,” said the man with glasses. “They’re going to go on any minute. Look.” He pointed to the right of the stage, where a little door stood next to an old cigarette machine no longer in use. “They’re gonna come out of that door. I’m so stoked. You wanna get closer?”
“I do,” I said. “But first I really need to use the restroom.”
I fought my way through the crowd to the other side of the bar, where the men’s and women’s restrooms were. I went into the women’s, patiently waiting for the stall on the far end. It looked as if the place hadn’t been cleaned in years, with dirty floor tiles and brown scum lining the cracked porcelain sinks, but none of the oth
er women seemed to care. Not even the young girl reapplying dark lipstick in front of a mirror so streaked with grime that you could barely see your reflection.
When it was finally my turn, I shut the door behind me and pulled the fountain pen from my purse. I drew a sword in the brick wall, which had been painted white and then desecrated with a fair amount of obscene graffiti. I drew a gladius instead of a saber, hoping its short blade might give me an edge if I had to take on the entire band.
Best case scenario: Briar cuts the power, the crowd disperses, and all four of the Corrupted surrender without a fight.
Worst case scenario: me fighting the entire band while at the same time fighting off all of the terrified, rabid fans who have no idea what’s going on.
“This is going to be a disaster,” I groaned, drawing a small drawer at the bottom of the wall. I opened it and put the gladius inside, closing it and cutting off the handle. It blended into the brick wall well enough that it would be unlikely someone might notice it.
“Are you almost done?” asked a woman outside the stall.
I flushed, put the pen back in my purse, then opened the door, giving the woman a friendly smile. She pushed past me, shutting the door quickly.
I left the restroom, now fully aware that my plan wasn’t a plan at all. It was a recipe for insanity. I fumbled with my purse again, hoping Briar was in place. Hoping the rabbit could shut off the power.
The lights dimmed. The door beside the stage opened. The crowd went wild. I clapped gently, standing on my tiptoes so I could watch them walk in. I was half-expecting them all to look like the smoke monster, but as the drummer and the bassist stepped out, I could see they were as normal-looking as anyone else in the crowd. The drummer—who was still wearing the same baseball cap as in my dream—sat down and promptly tapped every single drum.
Everyone cheered louder. I held my breath. Don’t cut the power yet, I mentally told Briar. Wait until they’re all on stage.
The crowd started chanting. “Peasants! Peasants! Peasants!”
Still no fiddler.
The crowd chanted even louder, then started applauding again. My fingers tightened around my purse. Something was wrong. They know I’m here, I thought.