WHEELS

by Lorijo Metz

  Hayes laughed.

  “What’s going on?” Wells, who still looked shocked by James’ announcement, had finally noticed that two of his three Tsendi guards were backing away in terror. The guard who’d been holding the knife was hysterical with fear, holding the banana out in front of him as if he’d discovered he was holding a stick of dynamite.

  And Hayes continued to laugh, louder and more obnoxiously by the second.

  “WHAT-IS-SO-FUNNY, young man?”

  “Look!” Hayes pointed at McKenzie.

  While Wells was looking at Hayes, Abacis had quickly disarmed two guards. Then, to McKenzie’s surprise, her dad punched the guard who’d been searching Hayes’ backpack. James Wu may not have been much of a match for the powerful Tsendi, but his blow was enough to send the Tsendi reeling, providing just enough time for James to grab the falling spear. Meanwhile, Principal Provost disabled the other two guards, who were quite surprised that instead of spears, they were pointing large purple flowers at their captives. The guards looked at each other, dropped the flowers and ran screaming into the forest.

  The remaining Tsendi were now forehead to ground, kneeling in front of Abacis and her father.

  “Now that’s teamwork,” said McKenzie, who’d never seen her dad act so…well, so macho!

  Wells turned to run, but Hayes grabbed him, encircling his waist with one arm, while drawing a knife to his throat with the other. It was impressive and lucky too that the knife McKenzie had turned into a banana had turned back, just in time, into a knife.

  “Would you have the boy cut your Advitor’s throat?” said Wells, pointedly to Abacis. “And how do you plan to fight off Mallos and the rest of my guards once the Circanthians’ magic wears off?”

  McKenzie moved to a position where she could keep an eye on the forest, the tsoot pit and the area behind Wells. Obviously, not all the Tsendi had been at the match. Come to think of it, she had seen few women and no children. Not a single one!

  “Abacis, where are all the Tsendi children?”

  Abacis hesitated. His pale Tsendi face turning almost pink. “Tsendi young ones are removed from their mothers at birth and brought up on the other side of the prison until the Advitor judges them fit to live among us. He personally oversees their education.”

  “WHAT?” cried Principal Provost.

  “Children are a nuisance,” said Wells. “They’re noisy, troublesome and do not belong in civilized society until such time as they can obey orders. I happened to have trained several capable Tsendi mothers to look after them. In addition, I personally take it upon myself to educate—”

  “ENOUGH!” yelled James. “I’m ashamed you’re even slightly related to me. And frankly,” he added, directing this comment to Abacis, “surprised your people tolerate such nonsense.”

  “I suppose we always thought the children remained in the trees with their mothers,” murmured Principal Provost, sounding a bit guilty himself.

  “I’m not surprised,” said Hayes, shocking everyone with the vehemence in his voice. “Wells knew the Tsendi were addicted to the cobaca froot.” Hayes drew the blade closer to his neck. “He used it to control them. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that Tsendi abandon their children. That’s what addicts do.”

  There were a few somber seconds of silence, then Abacis spoke. “We will correct the situation. But first, we must take care of the Wellsman!” Abacis stepped forward. “Guard them,” he said, pointing to the remaining Tsendi.

  “I won’t let you kill him,” said McKenzie.

  Abacis picked up an abandoned spear and moved towards Wells.

  “YOU put him in power,” she said. “YOU allowed him to lead your people. It’s as much your fault, as his.”

  Abacis lowered his spear, but made no move to step away.

  “Wells isn’t the problem, the cobaca froot is. You have to get rid of it.” McKenzie gestured toward the forest. “You have to get rid of the trees.”

  “The roots of the cocombaca trees reach down to the very core of our planet,” said Principal Provost. “Remove the trees and the planet falls apart.”

  “Then why not have the Circanthians particle-weave the froot into something else?”

  “To particle-weave every piece of cobaca froot hanging in these trees would require the skills of every Circanthian who ever existed,” said Principal Provost.

  Abacis turned, leaving Wells to Hayes for the moment. “Cobaca froot is only potent when ripe. And it only ripens during the loon.”

  “So, you pick it after the loon?” said McKenzie.

  “During.”

  “DURING the loon!” Principal Provost sounded shocked. “How do you survive the storms?”

  “If we do not harvest during the loon,” Abacis said, “it falls to the ground and is destroyed by the moscos.”

  “Ahhh, the lethal mustard colored moss,” murmured Hayes, impressing McKenzie, once again, with his knowledge of alien words.

  “Which explains why Circanthians rarely came in contact with it,” Principal Provost glared at Wells, “until HE introduced it to us.”

  “More important,” said McKenzie, “it means the Tsendi must store it somewhere.”

  “In a warehouse of my design,” boasted Wells. “Abacis, if it weren’t for me, you’d still be fighting over cobaca froot. I was the one who thought of even and fair distribution. I was the one who brought peace to your savage ways! These humans don’t care about you.”

  “Quiet!” shouted Hayes. “I’ve had enough of you! YOU drugged the Tsendi! You-you-you took their children away from them!”

  Wells uttered a pathetic little yelp as a trickle of blood ran down his throat.

  “Hayes—don’t!” cried McKenzie. She would have changed the knife into something else, but it seemed important for Hayes to make the decision himself.

  Finally, Hayes’ eyes met McKenzie’s and he lowered the knife.

  Wells’ hand flew to his throat, but with Hayes’ arm still firmly in place around his waist, he didn’t say a word.

  “Good choice,” said Principal Provost, sounding almost fatherly. “Best not to do anything you’d regret.”

  McKenzie decided it was time to change the subject. “When was the last loon?”

  “In Earth time,” answered Principal Provost, “approximately one month ago.”

  “So, if we destroy what they have, the Tsendi won’t have any cobaca froot until the next loon.”

  “If there’s one thing history has taught us, is that it’s never a good idea to interfere in another culture’s problems. Your mother and I—”

  “Dad! Please, I’m part of this planet. We have to give them a chance. A year, well, almost a year without cobaca froot could make all the difference. After that, it would be up to them whether to harvest or not. All we have to do is burn down one warehouse.”

  “Nooooo, nooooo,” moaned the Tsendi kneeling in front of McKenzie’s father.

  “Then we must do it quickly,” said Principal Provost. “I can not promise how much longer the disruption field will last.”

  “There will be guards posted outside the warehouse,” said Abacis.

  “And they’ll kill you before they allow you to burn their precious cobaca froot!” said Wells. “Abacis, how can you allow this to happen to your own people?”

  “Quiet, old human!” Abacis looked at Principal Provost. “He is correct, however. We cannot do this alone. If you could free some of my Tsendi from that…that…?”

  McKenzie looked at the tsoot pit. When whatever Principal Provost had done to it wore off, Mallos and the other Tsendi would be free. “Principal Provost, we need to get all of Abacis’ followers out of there before—”

  Just then, Mallos, who’d been frozen in the act of falling, tumbled to the ground. There was no immediate uproar, of course. The Tsendi in the pit had no idea what had happened; it was as if time had never stopped. Except for Mallos, that is. Mallos had seen something right before he’d been shoved. Now he began to roar!


  “OW!” cried Hayes.

  McKenzie turned in time to see Wells take off. Worse, he’d somehow turned around and kicked Hayes in the most unfortunate of spots. McKenzie winced, but there was no time to feel sorry for him. Wells was heading toward the tsoot pit.

  “Time to leave,” said Principal Provost. “I’ll weave us to the cave.”

  “I will not abandon my Tsendi,” said Abacis.

  “Have it your way. Get your Tsendi to the cave, enter through the water.”

  “They will not—”

  “Trust me!” Principal Provost said. “You MUST persuade them to enter through the water. The cave angles after only a short way; it is invisible from the shore. I will particle-weave that portion into solid ground. You need only be in the water a short time.”

  A-BA-CIS!!!! Mallos was now screaming at the top of his Tsendi lungs.

  “Hurry,” cried McKenzie.

  As soon as your Tsendi are through, I will send out a wave. One so large, even Wells will be afraid to enter.”

  Screams and curses filled the air. The Tsendi had begun to fight. Abacis grabbed the spears, which still smelled oddly sweet from their brief stint as large purple flowers, and headed into the tsoot pit. “I will do my best,” he shouted and was gone.

  B.R. Provost closed his eyes. Within seconds, the molecules of air in front of him began to transform.

  With Hayes’ assistance, as well as his new spear, McKenzie’s dad prodded the Tsendi guards into the portal. McKenzie turned to take one last look at the tsoot pit. Mallos stood in the center, surrounded in chaos, staring at McKenzie with a look of pure hatred. As she gazed back, McKenzie experienced a moment of pure fear. Tucking a curl firmly behind her ear, she turned and took off into the portal.

  Chapter 49

  FBI TRANSCRIPT 21204

  Agent Wink Krumm and H.G. Wells

  Thursday, June 11th

  WELLS: Do I look older to you?

  KRUMM: A bit weathered, perhaps.

  WELLS: I’m beginning to feel my age. It’s that girl’s fault. Margaret or McKenzie—whatever her name is. She did this to me.

  KRUMM: Poison?

  WELLS: My planet—she forced me to leave my planet!

  KRUMM: I could help if you’d promise get me those items I asked for.

  WELLS: What items?

  KRUMM: My phone, my personal log and your sister’s diary. You’re still on good terms with the Wu family?

  WELLS: They kidnapped me!

  KRUMM: Yes, yes, I know. I was there…remember?

  WELLS: You weren’t on Circanthos.

  KRUMM: No, no—when you came through the portal.

  WELLS: Ah yes, the portal. My publisher says my manuscript is brilliant. The public will eat up the H.G. Wells angle—the mystery, the intrigue…Oh dear!

  KRUMM: What?

  WELLS: I’m beginning to fade. Growing old is awful! Anywho, I’ll see what I can do about your diary, Krumm. In the future, however, I suggest you take better care of your things.

  ***

  REUNIONS

  Thursday, March 19th

  “You’ve brought friends.”

  “Professor!” Principal Provost was practically grinning from ear to ear at the old Circanthian. McKenzie had never seen him look so…alien! “I’m so pleased you made it back.” He rolled over and gave the Circanthian a hug.

  “Well I…” The old Circanthian looked as if he were going to cry. “I never knew you cared. I may have to stick around a bit longer.”

  They must be very good friends, thought McKenzie. Weird though, her dad was rolling his eyes, almost as if he found their reunion annoying. What was that about?

  The cave was filled with Circanthians, everyone from the Last Gathering, from the looks of it. A game of tsoot was in high gear. Though the pit appeared to have been rewoven and with much more accuracy.

  McKenzie would have loved to join in, but the game had already begun. Besides, she was exhausted, overwhelmingly so. Instead, she was sitting off by herself quietly observing.

  She had assumed the Circanthian version of tsoot would have been mellower. But that was not the case. Circanthians bounded into each other with abandon, sending rival team members bouncing across the pit and frequently out of it. One of them bounced right into McKenzie and without an, “I’m sorry” or anything, rolled back in.

  Watching them play made McKenzie long to be home playing basketball. She could almost smell the burnt rubber.

  In addition to reweaving the tsoot pit, most of the stalagmites had been transformed leaving a smooth floor with a few tables and even some fountains scattered about. It looked almost cozy.

  “James, would you mind guarding the Tsendi? Hayes, if you don’t mind, assist him. We have more company arriving.” Principal Provost looked around as if taking note of the changes his fellow Circanthians had made. “I’ll need to do a bit more remodeling,” he muttered, then rolled over by the water where, McKenzie hoped, he would soon begin weaving it into a solid surface for Abacis and his followers.

  “Nice to see you again, Professor,” said James Wu, speaking to the old Circanthian. Apparently, everyone knew him—everyone except McKenzie. The Professor, as they called him, looked about the same age as Pietas. He was very round, from the tip of his round head to his round body on top of his round Circanthian appendage. With his bushy white mustache, crinkly eyes and tweed coat, he was almost comical looking. “McKenzie, come meet your great-great grandfather, Professor Petré Revolvos.”

  Huh?

  McKenzie’s great-great grandfather’s eyes twinkled mischievously. Though his hair was white, it was quite thick. Upon closer inspection, McKenzie could tell he’d once been what Grandma Mir would call “a looker.”

  “Grandpa Revolvos, if you don’t mind. All those ‘greats’ are so tedious and sure to go straight to my head.” McKenzie reached out to take his hand and found herself pulled into an enormous bear hug.

  “So you’re the one everyone’s talking about.” He leaned back to take a better look.

  McKenzie took a better look too—and that’s when it hit her. My great-great grandfather has a—“Holy snaps!”

  “A roticolar,” said Revolvos. “Yes, McKenzie, I’m Circanthian. Which, I might add, are you. At least partially. By the way, my dear, Pietas was worried about you.”

  “Pietas!” McKenzie scanned the crowd. Pietas was sitting at a small table away from the tsoot pit with three older-looking Circanthians. She looked over at the sound of her name and waved.

  McKenzie pointed at Hayes, smiled and waved back. Then she turned to her great-great grandfather and everything began to spin. Circanthian? I’m Circanthian? She looked at Hayes, expecting him to reach over and pinch her. When that didn’t happen, she began shaking her head as if this would somehow put all the pieces back into place.

  Principal Provost and her dad were on Circanthos, they’d rescued her from Wells and his Tsendi, and now they were all back in the cave. Then, besides meeting her great-great grandfather, who was Circanthian and, apparently, alive… McKenzie paused to ponder this last part. Her great-great grandfather was ALIVE! So was her great-great-great uncle. Anyway… There was her dad acting like some sort of macho warrior-type, instead of a nerdy inventor, guarding three Tsendi with an oversized pitchfork, while taking time to point out that McKenzie was being rude.

  “My great-great grandfather—Geezits!” Now the room was really beginning to spin.

  “I think Mac is gonna be sick,” said Hayes.

  “I am not going to be sick!” she snapped. “I just need a moment.” McKenzie turned around and rolled over to the first empty corner she could find.

  “McKenzie Georgianna Wu!”

  “Easy, James,” said her great-great grandfather. “The girl needs a moment to process all of this.”

  McKenzie tried to empty her mind. When that wouldn’t work, she allowed the thoughts to come. She was Circanthian—part Circanthian, anyway. That was weird! But it did expl
ain things. Only…McKenzie sighed, it really didn’t change things. She was supposed to save the Circanthians, but all she’d done was make a bigger mess of things. Wells was free and a war was raging back at the Tsendi outpost. McKenzie said a silent prayer that Abacis and his men would make it back to the cave. Abacis was no fool; he would not fight a battle he could not win. At least, she hoped so.

  If they could burn down the warehouse, the Tsendi might have a chance to heal. Only, by now, Wells had probably doubled the guard—Wait! That’s it! Abacis had said there were guards outside the warehouse. Outside, not in. Even if there were guards inside, there wouldn’t be many. McKenzie could hardly contain her excitement. She sat a while longer thinking, working out the details and listening. She would not tell anyone her plan until Abacis arrived.

  A few feet away, Hayes was having this strange, grownup-kind-of conversation with her dad about Circanthian language, of all things! While her great-great grandfather kept interrupting, correcting Hayes, then going off on some tangent about what it was like to speak English in England and then have to learn an entirely different English in America and how one species could have so many different languages and how confusing, yet interesting it all was. And her dad—she’d never seen him look happier!

  McKenzie shuddered. The guilt and fear came so fast, it left her breathless…and small. The exact opposite of the hero she felt like only seconds ago. Until that moment, she hadn’t known if she would tell her dad about her part in the car accident. Now she was sure. In order to live with herself, she would have to tell him the truth.

  The Circanthians were laughing and playing tsoot, unconcerned, it seemed, that there was only a small cave full of them left in the entire universe. McKenzie shook her head. And she was one of them. Weird. And then she thought of something—the orb! Grandma Mir’s orb was a model of Circanthos. McKenzie could picture it clear as day. The alien professor, her great-great grandfather, had married Julianne.

  McKenzie was still silently chuckling to herself when she noticed it—silence.

  She turned in time to see Abacis racing across water woven into a solid blue surface. He was followed by ten, twenty…and soon, at least forty other Tsendi.