Castle Juliet

by Brandon Berntson

  “We had a great time, Fred,” Alice said. “One of the best days I’ve had all summer. Thanks for everything. It was really nice of you to take us riding and serve us dinner.”

  “The pleasure was all mine,” Fred said. “I’m just glad I made extra servings. Love leftovers, so I always make plenty. I agree it was one of the more splendid summer days I’ve had in a while, too.”

  “Mr. Fred, sir,” Jack said, putting out his hand. Fred took it and shook. “Thanks, dude. I think you just made Alice’s entire year.”

  “Glad to help, Jacky-boy. You kids come around to ride the horses whenever you want, okay? I’ll always have them ready for you.”

  “Wait ’til my butt heals first,” Jack said, and Fred turned to Alice and winked.

  “Well, Jack we should probably get going,” Alice said.

  Jack nodded, and they said goodbye. Fred saw them to the porch and waved goodbye as they made their way home.

  *

  Sometime later, near Alice’s house, Jack looked over and saw Alice smiling to herself. Her eyes were wet. “Alice?” he said, in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

  She turned to him and smiled even wider through her tears. Surprising him, she threw his arms around his neck, squeezing him tight.

  “Wow,” Jack said. “What did I do to deserve that?”

  Alice laughed and wiped tears from her eyes. “You, Jack!” she said. “That was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you so much!”

  “Shucks,” he said, blushing bashfully. He kicked at an imaginary pebble and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Tweren’t nothing, Alice. It wasn’t as if I’d planned on riding horses. That was all Mr. Fred.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said, and hugged him again.

  Jack, feeling awkward, stumbled, giggled, and blushed again.

  “Well,” Alice said. “I’d better get inside. Thanks again, Jack. You’re the best.”

  “Thank you, Alice dear,” he said.

  Alice opened the gate, met by an excited Boxer, who picked up where he’d left off, jumping, barking, and wagging his tail. She turned and looked at Jack as he walked away. The setting sun made his face glow with golden light. He looked up into the sky and smiled to himself—or to some imaginary being, perhaps only Jack could see. Alice thought maybe the being wasn’t imaginary at all, at least not to Jack.

  She stood on the porch and watched him walk away, both of them smiling for similar reasons. Finally, Jack crested a hill and dipped out of sight.

  *

  Alice lay in bed, the window open, and the stars visible in a clear night sky. A cool breeze blew in, the draperies blowing inward. Boxer lay on the bed on top of the blankets at Alice’s feet. She loved having Boxer there. He made her sleep better, and she felt protected.

  If Alice could dream with her eyes open, she was doing so now. She was smiling as she lay in the dark with Boxer at her feet. She was thinking about the perfect day she’d had with Jack. A simple act, she knew, showing her the horses, but to her, it hadn’t been a simple thing at all. Fred, too, had been quite a surprise. Fred, she thought. Yes, she supposed she had an innocent crush on Fred. Jack had been right about that. Still, she wondered why Fred was single, and Alice sent out a thought, a prayer to Fred. She hoped he’d find someone pretty and nice someday.

  On the bedpost, Alice looked at the cowboy hat Jack had given her, and she smiled again. Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Thank you, Jack,” she whispered to the empty room.

  She thought about everything that had happened that day, teaching Jack to ride, how well they’d gotten along with Fred, the goose, the ice cream, Christmas, Shockwave, and Sue. She loved Sue, and she hoped she’d get the chance to ride her again.

  Another cool breeze entered the room, and Alice snuggled deeper into the blankets.

  She closed her eyes and imagined the horizon, the imposing mountains to the west, etching the western sky. Maybe it was because of Jack, because of him and the influence he had on her, but for a second, she saw castles. Not a single castle, but dozens, hundreds—castles built centuries ago in Germany, Scotland, France, England, the whole of Europe. She imagined Jack saying something in her ear. She saw horses, too. They were everywhere. Horses and castles, and Jack saying, in her ear: “Pick any castle you want, Alice, and we’ll name it Castle Juliet. It will be your castle alone. All yours. Just for you.”

  Juliet smiled, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

  CHAPTER IV

  TORK MCGUCKIN AND THE RANDY BAND

  OF REBEL SURVIVORS

  Several days later, Jack and Alice were up in the same tree where the pink lasers had shot across space, and they’d time-warped across the galaxy. This time, they were playing Bomber Pilot. They were flying aces in World War II, but somehow, they had come into a land of dinosaurs instead. 1941 disappeared, Pearl Harbor. Across the sky, a red and orange umber stretched from one side of the horizon to the other. This was not the smoke from crashing, exploding airplanes. This was the last day of the mighty dinosaurs, when all those gargantuan creatures had been wiped out of existence. It made Alice sad. The dinosaurs were eating the planet dry. There was hardly any food left because of their massive appetites. Dinosaurs dropped to the ground, weak from hunger. Baby dinosaurs tipped over, malnourished, helpless.

  “Oh, Jack, the poor things are dying all over,” Alice said. “Can’t we do something?”

  “Just leave it to me, Alice dear,” Jack said.

  Jack flew the bomber. Alice imagined him with the bomber pilot headgear and goggles on, which made her laugh when she imagined it, because it made him look funny.

  “What’s so funny?” he said, looking over at her.

  “If you could see what I see you, you’d laugh, too, Jack. It’s nothing. You were the one who said you were wearing a bomber cap and goggles. But really, you look like a mad scientist.”

  “Hey, we haven’t played mad scientist, yet!” Jack said, excited by the prospect.

  “Let’s wait ’til we save the dinosaurs.”

  According to Jack, they were 10,000 feet up in a B-52, and a Stealth Fighter, and an F-16 all rolled into one “bad-looking, plane.” Alice wished she could see how the plane really looked in Jack’s mind. It was, after all, their imaginative fantasy, and they could imagine whatever they wanted.

  “There’s only one thing we can do, Alice,” Jack said. “We’re gonna have to end it, and end it quickly.”

  “But won’t the meteor hit the Earth and wipe them all out anyway?”

  “I think that was just a theory, Alice, but I’m not sure exactly.”

  “Can’t we just drop some food instead of a bomb, and replenish the planet? Maybe some celery sticks and tapioca pudding.”

  “I’m not sure our plane has enough room to feed every dinosaur, Alice. Besides, some of them are meat eaters. We’d have to drop some pork chops, steaks, some bacon bits, and some Quarter Pounders.”

  “If we send steaks and pork chops, I think we should cook them first.”

  “Do you think dinosaurs like A-1 steak sauce?”

  “Mmm,” Alice said, smacking her lips. “A-1 Steak Sauce.”

  “Gets you right here and right here,” Jack said, pointing to his jaw on each side where his molars were.

  “I don’t know, though, Alice,” Jack said, after a time. “Our best bet may be to just drop the bomb and put them out of their misery. It’s a mercy killing.”

  “It’s a big world, Jack,” Alice said.

  “It’s a big bomb, Alice,” Jack said.

  Alice nodded. “You have to do what you have to do.”

  “Cover your eyes, dear Alice. This isn’t gonna be pretty.”

  Alice clenched her eyes shut, and Jack nosed the plane higher. When the plane was high enough, Jack depressed the switch marked ‘Smart Bomb.’ It had worked in space with the fighters moving in, and no doubt, it would work now with the dinosaurs.

  The bomb whistled through the air as it fell
. Minutes later, a great white cloud erupted, mushrooming upward from the ground below. The plane trembled from the aftershock spreading wide across the entire planet. Apparently, it reached high into the air, and Jack temporarily lost control of the plane. Below, the mushroom cloud spread wide across the globe, killing every dinosaur. Jack maneuvered the plane through billowy clouds of smoke and fire, but eventually, this too, cleared. They flew over vast wastelands of silent inactivity and destruction. No planet life, not a single organism thrived. The planet was barren and lifeless in the aftermath.

  Not long afterwards, however, another world replaced the old. Trees in full bloom, lush verdure spread wide all around. They were back in the tree outside Storyville, the magical cottonwood, the meadows and streams under a bright, summer day. Flocks of birds flew from one tree to another. Jack looked at Alice. She wasn’t crying, but she looked sad.

  “Alice?” Jack said. “Are you okay?”

  “All those dinosaurs. They didn’t mean no harm. They were only doing what was natural for them. They can’t help it if they’re big, roaming beasts with large appetites.”

  Jack pattered her on the back. They were wearing their cowboy hats today. They’d been up in the tree for hours. Clearly, though, Jack was glad they’d done what they did with the dinosaurs—putting them out of their misery with the Smart Bomb. It was the right decision, he’d told her. Now, they could send the dinosaurs on their way to a bigger and brighter dinosaur heaven, but Alice was right. The dinosaurs hadn’t meant any harm. They were just being dinosaurs.

  “I’m sorry, Alice. If you want, we can go back in time. We can create a planet that thrives with nuts and berries. We can recreate the dinosaurs, so they’ll have plenty to eat for years to come. Should we get in the time machine?”

  Alice looked over at Jack and smiled. “It’s okay, Jack. What’s done is done. It was for the best, I think. It’s just sad, that’s all. It’s just sad.”

  “I love you, Alice,” Jack said.

  “I love you, too, Jack,” Alice said.

  *

  They started down from the tree when a strange voice accosted them:

  “Well, well, well. What have we here, boys and girls? Little Jacky-boy and Alice-Sweet-Alice smoochin’ in a tree. Isn’t that sweet? What do you think we should do about this, fellas? I think we should tell their parents. Send them a telegram. I wouldn’t think they’d be too pleased, do you? I should think not. Kind of a relief, actually, because I always thought little Jacky-boy was kind of a little Jacky-girl.”

  Jack flushed a deep, angry, and embarrassing red. He was wide-eyed, terrified, but boiling with anger at the same time. He looked as though he wanted to climb back up the tree, but Alice was already on the ground, and Tork McGuckin and his hapless band of misfits were directly under the tree. Jack and Alice couldn’t escape. The misfits, were, of course, Tork McGuckin himself, “Pooper,” Goldsmith and Lonny de Vries, but it was enough. Tork, the leader of this gangly hodge-podge stood with his chubby white belly rolling over the top of his tight jeans. Grease dulled his long, scraggly black hair. Pimples, pus, scabs, and whiteheads impeded every inch of his face. The craters, pits, and scars looked painful to Alice, and it gave her the jimjams looking at them. Tork wore a jean-jacket vest over a black T-shirt, his baleful black eyes swarming with hate and dullness. Tork was the school bully in every sense of the word, and an over-all pain in the rear. His fellow minions were no better.

  “Pooper” Goldsmith and Lonny DeVries stood flanking Tork with cocky grins on their faces. “Pooper” was just as oily as his rebel leader, but not nearly as large. He, too, was wearing a jean vest with no shirt underneath, revealing his slick, bony chest, which was insanely pale. He had thick, scraggly red hair, not nearly as lustrous as Alice’s, who washed hers everyday. Pooper’s was more a carrot shade of swirls and corkscrews, and every bone from his oversized ankles to his collarbone was visible. His was a skeleton covered in a transparent sheen of unctuous skin. He had bright blue eyes. The nickname came from a prank he’d pulled at school, a dare constructed by Tork, who had bet Simon (“Poopers” actual name) a pack of cigarettes and a week of free lunches if he ‘left a little surprise’ in the girl’s bathroom. Simon said he’d do it just for the cigarettes. Much to the shock and revulsion of every young girl and teacher in Storyville Elementary, he’d done just that. When he returned to school, after being suspended, everyone called him “Pooper.” It still made Alice queasy thinking about it.

  Lonny was the smallest and most timid of the three. He was the runt, along for the ride was all. He was blond, shy, quiet, and agreed with everything Tork said, usually repeating Tork’s idioms, followed by an obnoxious giggle. He wore fatigue shorts, sandals, and a green GI Joe T-shirt.

  “Well, well, well,” Jack said, bravely. “If it isn’t Tork McGuckin and his Randy Band of Rebel Survivors.” He stepped over to Alice in case she needed protection. Alice tried to suppress a giggle.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Tork said.

  “Several of those words can be found in your Funk and Wagnall’s,” Jack said. “But I suggest a good look in the mirror first. That, my overbearing brute, should tell you all you need to know.”

  Tork had been held back in the first and second grade, which was no surprise to those who knew him. It also accounted for his massive size, his puss-drenched face. As compensation to himself, he’d built a reputation as the most intimidating figure, the most overbearing bulldog in Storyville Elementary.

  “What were you guys doing up in that tree?” Pooper said, smirking. “Hey, Tork? Maybe we should see if Jack’s got lipstick on his neck. Yep, I think I can see it!”

  “Lipstick, yep!” Lonny said, and giggled like a dying bird.

  “You can take off that handicap helmet anytime, Lonny,” Jack said. “As far as I know there aren’t any stairs in the meadow. I know you’re probably worried about falling down all the time, but unless you climb a tree, I think you’ll be okay.”

  Lonny didn’t seem to understand the nature of Jack’s joke, so all he did was scowl and look confused.

  “What do you think we should do with them?” Pooper asked.

  “I think we should tie them upside down in the tree and let the mosquitoes have them,” Tork said.

  Jack, feeling extraordinarily brave, hitched up his britches with one hand, bowed his leg, and turned his head to the side, where he spat into the tall grass. He looked like the perfect cowboy. “You’ll never get away with it, sheriff,” he said. He gave the impression he was chewing cud. Alice roared with laughter, unable to help herself. “Ya’ll’s just too plain stupid, and too dang fat, skinny, and ugly for the likes of pretty ole Alice and me—”

  “Why, you little creep—” Tork said, burning with anger. The large boy took a step toward Jack, reached out, but tripped and fell over a branch hidden in the high grass under the cottonwood. Tork fell flat on his face with a loud, “Oomph!”

  “Get ’em, ya damn sissies!” Tork looked up and bawled at the others.

  The rest of the Randy Band gave chase quickly, and Jack and Alice turned and sprinted across the field into the sunlight.

  “Run, Alice!” Jack called, which seemed a silly, obvious command. “Where’s galloping Sue and Christmas when you need them!”

  Alice did run, but she was having a hard time because of the cowboy boots and their lack of traction. They were not light boots by any stretch, and certainly not as fleet as Jack’s tennis shoes. She fell behind quickly, while Jack accelerated ahead, making the distance between he and the other boys much wider.

  Pooper and Lonny caught up with Alice in the time it took Tork to get to his feet and chase after them.

  “Jack!” Alice shouted.

  Pooper grabbed Alice by the hair. Her cowboy hat fell to the ground. Lonny stepped over and ground the hat into the dirt with the heel of his shoe until the brim tore. Pooper twirled Alice around and wrenched her arm up behind her back.

  Tork caught up wea
ring a malicious sneer. Up ahead, Jack turned, stopped, widened his eyes—his face pasty white—and started back toward Alice.

  “Alice!” he cried, and the way he ran frightened her. He was kicking up his heels with violence, running as fast as he could. The boy was snarling, his face fusing back to an angry red. He pin-wheeled his legs like a locomotive, screaming and whistling, ready to fly off the track. She was surprised steam wasn’t billowing out of his ears. Jack was not slowing down, either, and his features took on a more dangerous, snarling aspect. He was, in fact, running faster and faster.

  Pooper, meanwhile, wrenched Alice’s arm up higher. The pain brought tears to her eyes. Her arm was either going to break, or she was going to pass out. She stood on her tiptoes to relieve the pressure, but Pooper yanked her arm up even higher. Alice squealed and yelped in pain, clenching her eyes shut. Lonny merely looked on, amused, and as Jack closed the distance, Lonny’s amusement turned to worry.

  “Let her go!” Jack wailed, and the next thing Alice knew, Jack took to the air. He leapt off the ground like Superman, turning his body in mid-air. Alice saw all this, but couldn’t quite believe it. Tork had just enough time to mutter “Holy cra—” when Jack collided into him like a cannonball. Two-hundred plus pounds of Tork McGuckin crashed and trembled to the ground. A cloud of dust rose. Tork made another empty, “Ooomph!” sound as the wind rushed from his lungs. He rolled slowly over onto his stomach in pain. Jack pounced like a leopard to his feet and onto Tork’s back. The boy was having a hard time catching his breath. Jack wrenched both of Tork’s arms up behind his back, leaned over, and clasped Tork’s ear between his teeth, making a clicking sound when he bit down. Tork howled in pain. Alice saw tears in his eyes.

  “Let her go!” Jack said, with Tork’s ear between his teeth, and because of it, it came out, “’Et ’er-o!”—also translated into, “Letter O!”