The God Wheel

by Brian Clopper

  We took a few bites of our breakfast. Dad broke off pieces of his bottom muffin and presented them to Marty, who gobbled them up. I didn’t say anything. My dad had never been gung-ho about pets, which had been the driving reason why I’d gotten Marty as soon as I’d moved out on my own. Years of being denied a canine and only thrown a random carnival goldfish had been the impetus for that. Seeing my dad warm to my dog was a small win. His ease with Marty was proof enough that all my dad’s numerous reasons for not letting my younger self navigate the perils of puberty with a furry accomplice amounted to nothing.

  “Work going well?” he asked.

  “It’s going.” I nodded. Marketing for a smallish video game company, whose claim to fame was a rascally furry space bounty hunter that had spawned two sequels so far, wasn’t what I wanted to do forever, but it paid the bills and only required late nights in the months ramping up to a new game launch or DLC drop. “So, there’s weather,” I said, keenly mindful that we were running out of conversation, to the point that I was being blatantly ironic with a thoroughly bland conversational topic. I didn’t want to mention the lottery ticket as he would just try to talk me out of looking for its owner.

  Dad finished off his sandwich and grinned. “Yeah, got to that one pretty fast. Face it, the two of us together just aren’t sparkling conversationalists.”

  I nodded and took a long swig of my juice.

  Marty whined, and I excused myself to take him out. He immediately peed and then tugged at the leash before circling twice and doing his business. I bagged up the offending addition to my front yard, dropped it into the trash receptacle already out by the curb for today’s trash pick-up, and returned inside.

  Dad sat on the couch with a treat in his hand. Marty bolted over to him as soon as I unhooked his leash. The retriever sat without prompting and raised his left paw, anticipating the handshake command.

  My dad shot him a serious look. Marty whined but lowered his paw.

  Dad held out his right hand and said, “Shake.”

  The pup’s next move always cracked us up. Marty wiggled his entire body, sending a shiver that started at his head down through his body and ending with a rapid-fire rump wiggling that sent his long tail in broom-sweeping arcs.

  Dad laughed and opened his outstretched hand. “Handshake.”

  Marty dropped his paw into my dad’s hand. He closed his thick fingers around the paw and gave it three gentle pumps before tossing the treat into the retriever’s open mouth.

  The dog leapt to his feet, gobbling up his reward as he spun around twice and then returned to a sitting position. He gave his treat bearer an expectant look.

  Dad held open his empty hands, revealing he had nothing else. “No more, Marty. All done.”

  The dog glanced at my dad’s pants, specifically his right front pocket. Drool inched down from his slightly open mouth.

  Dad looked at me without moving his head. “Clever fella.” He produced another treat from the pocket under surveillance and tossed it high into the air. Marty leapt and snapped up the treat along its downward arc.

  After scarfing down every last crumb from the treat, Marty flopped onto the carpet at my dad’s feet and prodded his shoe with a paw.

  Dad petted him vigorously.

  I said, “Still working on rollover.”

  “Hey, the shake/handshake gimmick is a real winner. You’d be the hit at the dog park.”

  “Oh, are you speaking from experience?” I knew he’d borrowed his friend’s corgi for a little visit to the dog park a few weeks back on the assumption that it might attract some female attention. I’d learned that from his good buddy Reed.

  “Oh, Reed tell you about that little experiment, did he?”

  “Dad, you’re finding plenty of women to date online, don’t branch out and stalk people at the area dog parks. It’s kind of despicable.”

  “Kind of? It’s completely despicable, Felix. I got three numbers from that outing.”

  I did my best to resist rolling my eyes.

  He hung his head and stopped running his fingers through Marty’s coat. “I threw them all away. It didn’t feel right. I was trying to be someone I’m not.”

  I didn’t respond. What was happening here?

  “I know you don’t like hearing about me chasing women.”

  “Dad, I—”

  “Not finished.” He sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. More and more of it was grey now, a good deal of the follicle frost having happened after Mom’s death. He was in his early fifties but looked like he was pushing sixty. “I’m lonely. I miss your mother. She was everything to me.”

  I knew his memory of their marriage was a little colored. Things had not been perfect.

  He stared at me, holding his gaze for an uncomfortably long time. “I know what you’re thinking. What about all the yelling? About me stomping out of the house and coming back hours later and not talking to either of you for the rest of the night? I remember every one of those, believe me.”

  “Dad, you don’t have to ex—”

  “I do, not for you, but for me. I need to get this out.”

  “Okay,” I said, barely above a whisper.

  “Every couple has fights. Yeah, probably most aren’t as raw as ours, but that was my fault not hers. I didn’t know how to handle my frustration.” He played with Marty’s ears. “I’m going to stop running around acting half my age. I deleted my profile last night. I don’t need to try so hard with finding someone. And I certainly don’t need to hound you about your love life either.”

  “Um, it’s okay. It’s kind of expected. I need someone pushing me.” Not wholly true, but it felt like something he needed to hear. I didn’t want to kick him while he was down.

  “I’ll go out, but just without such urgency.”

  “Okay.”

  “That kind of opens up a little time in my schedule,” he said.

  “Going to try a hobby or take some classes?”

  He shook his head. “No, I thought maybe you and I could go fishing once in a while.” He nodded at Marty. “We could bring this one if he doesn’t scare off the fish.”

  I didn’t know what to say. What a truly weird conversation. My dad was acting way too vulnerable. I didn’t know how to handle it.

  He stood. “And I read up on how to clean them. We can actually cook what we catch this time.”

  I smiled and rose. “What a change of pace. You sure you’re up to the challenge?”

  He swept his arms up and pulled me in, hugging me tight. He smacked me several times on the back to keep the embrace from feeling too awkward and needy. “Absolutely.”

  He pulled away, bringing his arms down and looking at me. His limbs didn’t hang right. It was clear he felt embarrassed at the display of affection he’d precipitated.

  I smiled. “We can sort out the details another time. Maybe we can go one night later this week.”

  “Or early, like crack of dawn. If you want to go to our rock, we’ll have to sneak on the farmer’s property before he’s out of bed.”

  I didn’t want to point out that farmers got up incredibly early. He seemed happy to have a plan.

  He walked over to my door and opened it. “What you doing two weekends from now?”

  “Haven’t thought that far ahead. Why?”

  “Thinking of going through the attic, thinning out all the stuff up there. Could use your help. Lots of things you might want to hold onto up there. Pretty sure most of mine can go straight to the dump.”

  Whoa, Dad being open to parting with junk? Unheard of.

  “Sure. Pencil me in.”

  “Righto. See ya, Felix.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes almost threatening to well up. “Keep your head on straight.”

  “Will do.”

  He left. Marty raced to the door and whined, but I ignored him.

  I sat back down, feeling altogether numb.

  Without warning, a woman wearing a short blue skirt and a yellow
billowy button-down blouse stepped out of the kitchen. Her blond hair cut in a short bob bounced about playfully. Her blue eyes were wide and inviting with a hint of sadness. “It’s not your head he should be worrying about. It’s your wheel. No one’s at your wheel, Felix.”

  Marty charged at the stranger. Instead of crashing into her slender legs, the retriever passed right through . . . like she was a ghost.

  “What the hell?”

  Chapter 2

  Not-All-There Houseguest

  “Let’s not bring such an infernal region into the conversation, shall we? I assure you my origins are not from a locale that leans far too heavily on jetting plumes of magma high into the air and calling it ambience.” The woman looked down at Marty, who scrambled for proper footing on the kitchen linoleum in an attempt to spin himself around so he could have another go at the phantom intruder. He flopped on his stomach twice in his mad dash to launch himself at her a second time. She watched the dog struggling on the slick flooring.

  “Who are you? How’d you get in?” I sprang to my feet and gave an obvious side eye to the bat bag propped up behind the recliner. Softball season had ended two weeks ago, and I’d been lazy about stowing away my equipment in the garage. The wrapped handle of my prized bat stuck out at an angle favorable for me to snatch it up with ease. I flexed my fingers, convinced I could execute the move with moderate finesse.

  “Whoa, dial it down a notch.” She glanced from me to the bat. “No reason to swing first and ask questions later. You’d be wrong to think I’m up to no good.”

  Marty plowed through her again. Her appearance faded, becoming see-through for a second, as he found himself back in the living room, unable to make contact with his victim. He whined, clearly thwarted that he wouldn’t be getting slobbery close with her.

  I called him over and held him at bay.

  He barked, but more out of curiosity than aggression.

  Still, I felt the need to explain. “Don’t worry. He’s all bark, no bite. Wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

  The woman, now that I had time to take a closer look, was younger than I’d initially thought. She appeared under twenty, her fresh scrubbed complexion and small frame betraying she was closer to half my age, sixteen at the most. “Not worried in the least. You caught that he passed right through me on two occasions, right? Have to say, I always thought you’d be quicker on the uptake than this.”

  I felt my anger flare at her snide comment. Definitely working the teenage snark to the max here. Wanting to appear like I’d figured out something, I said, “You’re a ghost?”

  She laughed. “Nope.”

  I didn’t offer another answer. It surprised me how calm I was having someone in my house who was able to go immaterial or was immaterial. I eyed her up and down. She now appeared solid and her feet sank into the carpet, so she had to have some amount of mass.

  She noticed me studying her. “Penny for your thoughts.” She held out her hand, palm-side up and open. The coin in question appeared in the air above her outstretched hand before it dropped into her possession. She flipped it at me.

  I caught the penny and almost dropped it. The coin was red hot. Instead, I jostled the penny so it hopped about on my skin, ensuring I wouldn’t be burned.

  “Sorry, teleporting inorganic matter generates a lot of heat in the object, especially certain metals. Luckily, the same can’t be said for anything organic.” She jokingly clutched at her stomach. “I couldn’t deal with having my insides go all superheated even if it was just for a few seconds.”

  “Teleportation, huh? So you’re a time traveler?” I looked for any hint of futuristic gadgets on her person. No wonky tool belt loaded down with highly polished paraphernalia, no devices anywhere, not even a futuristic Fit Bit.

  “Look at you, going from one out-there theory to another. And Lorfu doubted your ability to adapt. Shame on him.”

  “Lorfu?”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m going to do you a favor and really spell everything out. It’s not every day one gets to see their wheel.”

  “What do you mean by a wheel?” That was the second time she’d mentioned some sort of wheel.

  She held out her hand.

  I flicked the penny back into her palm, pleased at how smoothly it transferred. It was no longer hot, so she didn’t react to it with any discomfort. Something told me she wouldn’t even if it had been on the fiery end.

  “No, grab my hand, silly. I have to take you somewhere.” She flung the coin onto the couch and frowned.

  Part of me imagined the penny reheated from its brief stay in her hand. The image of the couch bursting into flames made me flinch. I kept my gaze fixed on the coin. After a few seconds without any billowing smoke, I relaxed.

  “To see my wheel?” I pictured a huge ship adrift in rough waters, a storm sending jagged lightning all about as almost horizontal sheets of rain fell. Was she about to teleport us to such a scenario? I looked about, disappointed my living room lacked a life preserver for just an occasion. Of course, who would ever find themselves in such a circumstance? Something told me I wasn’t remotely prepared for where this magical houseguest was taking me, be it nautical or otherwise. Oh, what if it was a spaceship? Wait, those didn’t really have captain’s wheels. “Did someone give me a boat?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not even close, chief. Although, if we don’t get things moving along, it’s very likely you could win a yacht or strike gold in your backyard even.”

  “What?” I grabbed her hand.

  She squeezed my fingers with far more strength than necessary. “You’re winning way too much. Surely you noticed.”

  What was she talking about? I glanced at my bat. “We lost the last four games of the season. Not what I call a winning streak.”

  “Not what I meant.” She shook her head. “Just relax. Let me work my magic and take you to see what you need to see.”

  “You do cryptic well.”

  She giggled. “Thanks. You want direct answers, that’s really Xexxer’s field of expertise. Although, with him, you’ll get it with the driest of deliveries. And with far too much minutiae.”

  First Lorfu, now this name, which surely exceeded the number of Xs or Zs (honestly, it could be spelled either way but my gut told me it was X) one ought to have in an appellation. Judging by how she drew them out, there had to be three. “Who? What’s your name?”

  She closed her eyes. A yellow glow sprang from her small frame, crept up my arm and raced over my body. It didn’t hurt in the least, but it was still disturbing. I almost yanked free of her grip. I suddenly noticed I was barefoot.

  “I’m Yolla, your goddess of good fortune, Felix Martin.” She wiggled her nose, and the air around us picked up and spun in a circle, keeping the two of us at its center.

  I heard Marty utter a startled yip and then my living room and faithful dog disappeared, replaced by a black void.

  Chapter 3

  Wheel Time

  I tightened my grip on Yolla’s hand. This didn’t go unnoticed by the alleged goddess. She said something, but I couldn’t hear any words.

  The abyss we floated in probably didn’t have enough air to allow sound waves safe passage. This revelation sent me into a near panic. I tried to suck in a breath but couldn’t. I stared at her. My expression no doubt looked ridiculous—what with my eyes stretched so open and driven to conveying the highest level of panic that they must be swollen cartoon orbs of wigged-out uncertainty.

  She mouthed what appeared to be a request to stay calm. Surprisingly, that worked and I discovered my lungs didn’t feel compelled in the least to fetch any oxygen. I sure hoped that didn’t mean I was dead.

  The darkness around us pressed in, exerting more pressure than what I expected. Not that I had any preconceived notions of what a void could muster—this was my first time inside one, after all. Still, it reminded me of plunging into a lake or pool. The shadows had substance and seemed to be encroaching. I took a moment to register that the
pressure was indeed mounting. I felt it the most in my eyes and open mouth, specifically how it pressed down on my tongue. I clamped my lips shut, which alleviated the strain on my taste buds immediately. Now the darkness pushed on my lips instead.

  She smiled and concentrated. The yellow glow enveloping us brightened then reddened. It disappeared for a second, before returning with a blue hue. This seemed to satisfy her, and she gave my hand two quick squeezes and tensed up, crouching slightly and planting her feet in a more widespread stance as if expecting the bum rush of a linebacker. My imagination again seized control, and the notion of a hulking football player made of dark matter charging at us caused me to do my best imitation of her at-the-ready pose.

  The pressure lessened the minute our glow shifted from blue to a rich violet.

  With that, we suddenly dropped. A hint of air rushed past us as we fell. The longer we plunged, the stronger the air flow became. Below us, the darkness lightened to a gray.

  Yolla tapped my forehead with her free hand and gently traced her fingers down over my eyes indicating, by closing her own eyes twice, that she wanted me to do the same.

  I complied. Maybe it was best not to witness our landing. Or were we about to travel through a dimension of atrocities so unspeakable that they would sear our eyes and blind us? Get a grip, Felix.

  We hit rock bottom, literally. I dropped to my knees, and my chest slammed into the ground. I opened my eyes. Our landing spot was a stone floor. I looked up to see a ceiling made of rocks, no sign of the rift we had surely spilled out of.

  We were in a cave with no hint of an exit, no doors, nor any other gaps for that matter. The walls had many cracks, but none wide enough for more than a cockroach to slip through.