Over the Rainbow

by Brian Rowe

  “Of course,” I said, and both Frankie and I nodded. “So who’s driving?”

  Mr. Balm lifted the keys again. “You two look capable. But please, allow me.”

  “Sounds good,” Frankie said, and walked to the car.

  “Excellent. Let’s go.” Mr. Balm hit the unlock button, sat in the driver’s seat.

  Frankie opened the passenger door. “Zippy?” he said. “You coming?”

  I stood still for a moment and closed my tired eyes. I pictured the animal that almost cost us our lives. Like the dodo bird, it looked familiar, like I had studied it before. I failed to get those massive sharp teeth out of my mind.

  Then it hit me.

  “The saber-toothed cat,” I whispered.

  “Zippy! Let’s go!” Frankie shouted.

  I walked toward him. “But it can’t be. The saber-toothed cat has been extinct for…” I searched my brain. “Thousands of years.”

  “What did you say?” Frankie asked, as I approached him.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all.”

  I picked up Judy, pulled her into the back seat with me, and slammed the Camry door.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Friday, July 31, 1992

  I was ten years old when my brothers abandoned me in a forest.

  That summer in southern Kansas was glorious; every day was a picture book dream. I ran through sprinklers, sold lemonade on the sidewalk, stayed up late watching old movies with my mom. It was the summer before fifth grade, and everything was right in the world.

  All my brothers wanted to do that summer was make home movies with my dad’s VHS camcorder, and one day they organized an amateur film shoot in Perry State Park, in nearby Ozawkie. I didn’t think they’d ask me to be a part of it. They’d never asked me to be a part of any of their little productions.

  “We want you to be in our movie,” Asher said, by the fireplace, the night before.

  “Really? That’s so cool!” I bounced up and down on my dad’s favorite lounge chair. “Who am I playing?”

  “The first victim.”

  “What’s a victim?”

  “It’s…” Asher looked at Abram, the cinematographer. He was busy cleaning the camera lens. “We’re making a scary movie.”

  “Oh cool!” I shouted. “I love scary movies!”

  Abram chuckled from the corner of the room. “You’ve never even seen one, Zip.”

  “Sure I have.”

  “The Sword in the Stone doesn’t count.”

  Asher handed me the eight-page script and told me to be ready at 7 AM. I only had three lines of dialogue to memorize but I spent most of the night practicing them in front of the mirror. I played with my mom’s make-up kit, and spread purple eye shadow over my eyelids and cheeks.

  “I love hide and seek,” I said into the mirror, reciting my lines from the script. “It’s my favorite game ever! Can I be it?” The words came out of my mouth a little flat; I tried to emote more. I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips, like my character, named GIRL in the script, had a bad attitude.

  I only got four hours of sleep. I was excited to be in a movie, but I was more excited to spend quality time with my older brothers, even though, in retrospect, I should have known better.

  The forest was majestic on that overcast Friday. A light summer rain had swept over Kansas during the night, so the air was crisp and smelled of fresh pine. Abram and Asher and their five friends talked to one another as we walked, not taking a second to notice the serene beauty. But I took in every gust of cold air, every whiff of cinnamon bark, every sight of falling leaves. Thirty minutes into our hike, Asher stopped us and said it was time to start filming.

  We started with my scene. I had my lines prepared, and my mom had even helped me with my make-up before we left. I expected Asher to rehearse with me for a few minutes, but we filmed right away, and my scene was done in ten minutes.

  “Okay, Zip, one last shot,” Asher said. “Timmy, put the blindfold on her.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Asher’s friend said. The witless sixteen-year-old had been recruited to give my brothers the ride to Ozawkie.

  I expected a flimsy blindfold that would wrap around part of my eyes, but it covered most of my face. He tied it around my head and spun me in a circle, two circles, three, to the point where I thought I would collapse from dizziness.

  “All right, Zip!” Asher shouted, from a mile away. “Count to fifty!”

  “Fifty?” That seemed like a lot. But I forced myself not to whine. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “All right, quiet everyone. And… action!”

  I counted only one number every few seconds, to give the scene more tension. “One… two… three…” I counted for two straight minutes. “Forty-eight… forty-nine… fifty!” I grinned, and improvised one last line. “Ready or not, here I come!”

  It took me a minute to pull off the blindfold—it was secured so tight it seemed to be glued to my face—and when I finally did, I expected to hear a loud, “Cut!”

  But I didn’t hear a thing. I stepped forward and smiled, knowing my brothers were playing a trick on me. I figured they were hiding in the bushes, ready to pounce on me, hoping to capture a proper scream on camera.

  “I know you guys are hiding,” I said. “I’m going to find you.”

  I stepped through the dirt and combed around a dozen trees, but when five minutes became ten, I started to worry.

  “Okay, guys. This isn’t funny anymore.”

  I looked in every direction. I was surrounded by forestland. Worse, I had no idea how to get back to the car.

  “Asher? Abram? Where are you guys?”

  Thunder crackled above, and rain started pouring down. The closest shelter I could find was an oversized tree, with long, weighty branches.

  I wrapped my arms around my chest, humiliated. I knew my brothers didn’t like me very much, but I didn’t think them to be cruel.

  I sat there for the longest time. I prayed that my brothers wouldn’t let me freeze to death, but neither one came back for me. When the rain stopped, I stood up and decided on a direction.

  But I stopped before I even started. I heard a growl. I turned around just in time to see two coyotes headed my way. I held back a scream, and crouched in the closest bushes.

  The animals trudged around the area in search of food. Neither of them came near me. After a few minutes, they wandered off.

  I stood back up on my feet, surveyed the area. I took a step forward—and heard the low growl again. I turned around. The coyotes were right behind me. They scowled, and approached me in a slow, stealthy manner.

  I dropped to the muddy ground. They stared right into my eyes, so I focused on the wet puddles beneath me. When the coyotes moved closer to my face, I closed my eyes, and thought of my brothers. I saw them driving back to Topeka, just laughing with their friends.

  I hoped my brothers had been put up to it. I hoped they were torn up inside, even just a little bit.

  The hot breath evaporated in front of me, and the icy frost in the air returned. I opened my eyes.

  The coyotes were gone.

  #

  Sunday, June 13, 1999

  A fierce roar shook me to the core. Even though the windows were rolled up, the noise rattled the car.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked.

  Mr. Balm shook his head. “Didn’t hear a thing.”

  We had been traveling on I-26 toward Portland for the past hour; now we were headed through Mt. Hood National Forest.

  “Do you think it was a bear?” Frankie asked, from the passenger seat.

  “Are you nuts?” I pulled Judy close to me. She looked scared, too. “That sounded bigger than a bear.” I glanced out my window, at all the trees and forestland, in search of yet another extinct animal.

  “Zippy, what in a forest would be bigger than a bear?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out. What do you think it was, Mr. Balm?”

  “I
told you,” he said. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “We’ve seen a dodo bird, a saber-toothed cat,” I said. “Things that aren’t supposed to exist! Do you think it could possibly be a—”

  “The only animals around these parts are coyotes.” Mr. Balm didn’t seem at all concerned, but I noticed him speed up a little.

  “No. I’ve heard coyotes, trust me. This was different.”

  “Isn’t this forest scary enough?” Frankie asked. He cowered in his seat. We hadn’t seen a moving vehicle in more than twenty minutes. “Look at Judy. She’s shaking.”

  And she was. I petted her, all the way from her white, furry head to her thin little tail. She lay her head against my leg, and fell asleep.

  I brought my head back against the headrest and stared out the window. I yawned, tried to stay awake. Those leather seats were so damn comfy.

  The forest became fuzzy. The sounds around me dissipated.

  I blinked, just once, and I was out.

  #

  I walked in slow motion, past the bushes and trees, through a thick fog that covered the mystical woods. It took me a minute to notice that Frankie was gone, that Judy had disappeared, that Mr. Balm failed to lead the way—and that I held a basket of fruit in my hands, a long red cape draped over my upper body. I focused on the trail ahead of me, one that led all the way to a cabin that had smoke rising out of its chimney.

  I stopped when I came across a cluster of road signs: TURN AROUND TO TOPEKA, STRAIGHT AHEAD TO SEATTLE. I looked back. The sad, flat wasteland of Kansas. I looked forward. A metropolis, full of streetcars, skyscrapers, and girls holding hands. The cabin was the only thing blocking me.

  “Mira? Can you hear me?”

  The response was immediate: “Yes, Z. It’s me.”

  The voice came from the cabin. “I’m almost there,” I said.

  “Hurry. The bad man is coming.”

  “The bad man?”

  I peered down to see footprints on the dirt trail I hadn’t noticed before. They were wide and deep, and not made by a human.

  “Hurry,” she said. “I can hear him.”

  “Mira, I'll be right—”

  “Z! He’s breaking in!”

  Mira’s voice echoed all around me. I looked past the cabin, toward Seattle, to see that the city was roaring with fire.

  “Mira! Oh my God!”

  “Z! He’s hurting me!”

  “Don’t worry! I’ll save you!”

  The fire reached the forest. The trees ignited with orange fireballs, and the bushes sang with loud explosions. I ran through the danger, toward the cabin. I kicked on the wooden door. “Mira!” I shouted.

  “Z, he’s killing me!”

  I kicked again. “Get your hands off her!”

  “He says I’m no good for you…”

  “Get your hands off her, you son of a bitch!”

  “I’m sorry, Z,” Mira said, her voice quieting, “I’m so sorry.”

  I took three steps back. The heat stung my cheeks, my hands. When my red cape caught fire, I tossed it and the basket to the ground.

  “One…” I said. “Two…” I didn’t say three.

  I sprinted forward and slammed my chest against the door. It shot open so fast I tumbled to the hardwood floor, somersaulted, and landed hard on my back.

  The roar of the fire went silent. The door shut behind me, and locked itself. No fire, no danger now. Only silence.

  “Mira?” I stepped toward the back room. A queen bed was shoved against a window. A gust of wind wafted against my hair, and I turned around to see a fireplace ignited with a low, blue flame.

  “I’m here, Z,” a voice said from the bed.

  I didn’t turn toward it until the fireplace turned black again. Ten pink-painted toes peeked out from under the covers. When they curled back in, I rushed forward.

  “Mira, I’m here,” I said.

  “I know you are. I’ve missed you.” The voice sounded higher than before, like Mira had inhaled helium. “I’m so glad we finally get to be together.”

  I wanted to wrap my arms around her, hold her close. “I am, too.”

  I lifted the heavy covers and pulled her hand close to mine. Her fingernails were also painted pink, and her hands were big and firm. I tried to see her face, but it was hidden in the shadows.

  “Mira? Can I see you?”

  The figure pulled open the covers to reveal her feminine purple nightgown.

  “Mira, what big ears you have,” I said.

  She giggled. “The better to hear you with, my dear.”

  “And what a big nose you have.”

  “The better to smell you with, Zippy.”

  “To smell me with? Why would you want to smell me?”

  The figure leaned toward me, out of the black, revealing in full a face of horror. His cheeks smudged in red, his lips bright pink, his teeth rotten yellow, my father scooted toward the edge of the bed.

  “Daddy?”

  “Hello, honey.” His voice was low and demonic.

  “Daddy, what big teeth you have!”

  He ripped through his nightgown, exposing not a human chest, but one of a corpulent wolf. He revealed his hairy ankles, legs, and feet. His entire face transformed into that of a hideous beast, and his eyes turned a sinister red.

  “The better to eat your little girlfriend with, my dear!”

  He clamped his mouth over my head, and sunk his teeth against my skull. I reached my arms down my dad’s throat, and the last thing I felt was Mira’s cold, clammy hands reaching out for mine.

  #

  I opened my eyes. Sweat dripped off my forehead and cheeks.

  Mr. Balm was still driving. The forest looked the same. For all I knew I had been asleep for half a minute.

  “Jesus,” I said. I sat up, and rolled down the window. “Enough with these goddamned nightmares.”

  “Did you say something?” Mr. Balm asked.

  “No, no. It’s nothing.”

  “You sure?”

  “Mmm hmm.” I glanced around the passenger seat. Frankie was asleep.

  I stuck my head out the window and breathed in the fresh, clean air. The forest looked alive, with trees moving up and down, left and right, like animate figures.

  The winged creatures above didn’t look out of the ordinary at first. I peered up at them and smiled. I figured it was just birds. Then one dipped closer, and I saw it better under the evening sunlight.

  I saw the small triangular heads, the light brown skin, the dragon-sized wings.

  I’d waited for this moment my entire life. My eyes welled up with tears as the one creature became five, ten, twenty. Within seconds thirty pterodactyls covered the sky.

  “Am I still dreaming?”

  “What was that, Zippy?” Mr. Balm asked.

  “Look!” I said. “In the sky!”

  I pointed at the flying creatures, and Mr. Balm looked up. But a sight back down on Earth caught my attention, in full force.

  “Oh my God!” I shouted. “Mr. Balm, watch out!”

  “What?” he asked, glancing back at me.

  “Stop the car!”

  Mr. Balm turned around, and saw it, too. He slammed on the brakes, catapulting all of us, including Judy, to the front of the Camry.

  Frankie struck his head against the glove compartment. He was awake now. “Oww! What the hell are you doing, Mr. Balm?” he said, with three quick blinks. “What are—”

  A giant growl shut us all up. A large, unfriendly creature stood in the middle of the road.

  The animal walked toward the car. Its paws were as big as my head, and its yellow body appeared as wide as a tractor.

  “What the hell is that?” Frankie asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mr. Balm said, resting his chin against the top of the steering wheel. “Some kind of lion?”

  “It’s a lion, all right, Mr. Balm,” I said, and pushed myself against the center console. “That’s a cave lion!”

  The animal approac
hed the hood of the Camry. I studied its beady eyes, its thick yellow fur, its five-foot-long tail. Frankie brought his hands to his mouth and opened his eyes wide.

  “Can you drive around it?” I asked Mr. Balm.

  “The road isn’t wide enough.”

  “Well, you have to try!”

  He looked in his rearview mirror. “Zippy, sit back. Let me see.”

  I crouched in my seat and pulled Judy close to me. “What are you going to do?”

  “The only thing I can do.”

  He sped backward, and the lion followed.

  “We’re going to be all right,” he said. “We’ll find another way out of here. We’ll find—oh shit!”

  He slammed on the brakes again. I pressed my hands against the back of the driver’s seat.

  “What now?” I asked.

  Frankie and Mr. Balm both stared out the back windshield, their mouths agape. I followed their gaze. Another animal approached the car. This one appeared even meaner than the cave lion.

  “Is it a dog?” Frankie asked.

  “If it is, it’s the biggest dog in history,” I said.

  I focused on the animal’s face. It looked like a freak science experiment gone wrong, like that saber-toothed cat and a pit bull had mated to form a genetically impossible offspring. Its ears were an inch in length, while its jaw dropped all the way to the ground. Its face resembled that of a dog, but its body had black stripes, like a zebra.

  “Do you know what that is, Zippy?” Frankie scooted to the edge of the passenger seat, and reached his hand out for me. I took it.

  “Yes,” I said. I always hoped that extinct creatures report I did in the eighth grade would pay off someday, but I never expected it to pay off like this. “That’s worse than the cave lion. That’s the Tasmanian tiger!”

  “This is impossible,” Mr. Balm said, panicked.

  “It’s remarkable, is what it is,” I said. “These are two of the most famous extinct animals in history!”

  Frankie clasped onto my hand a little too hard. “That’s all well and good, but here’s my question: what the hell do we do now?”