Cloud Riders (28 page)

Calamity jumped to her feet, her eyelids wide open and jammed into her forehead like someone trying to see the top of their own head without a mirror. “Will you shut up, Willis Dinker! Talk-talk-talk.” She sat down hard enough to break her chair, but it remained whole.

"Why are you afraid to let Will come with us?” Paul shrugged. “What harm could that be to your plans?"

"Plans!” Calamity cried. “I don't have plans! Haven't you listened to anything I've said? If I had any way of stopping Vile Extinction by myself, don't you think I'd have done it without you, a silly boy? Why do I need another boy?"

"If you want me to come, Will has to come, too,” Paul said and Will grinned.

"Should I stay here?” Holly asked. “I bet I could help if you would-"

"No! You are not in my plan...scheme...master map.” Calamity knew she had dug herself into a hole. She spoke as if Holly were not present. “Holly Dinker stays and resumes her timekeeping duty."

"But Will comes with us,” Paul insisted. “He's my back up."

"It's our show, not just mine,” Calamity gave in. “Unfortunately. He comes and his sister stays. Okay, boys?” The torment of having to be nice obviously rankled Calamity to no end.

"Then it's okay for Will to come with us,” Paul said, carefully keeping his voice matter-of-fact. “Thanks."

"You may come with us, Willis Dinker, if you will be
quiet
.” She glared at Paul. Her crooked mouth tried to smile and failed. “Is that all right with you, dear boy?"

"Send Holly back out to stay with Vicki and I'll buy into it, Calamity."

Calamity nodded, Holly snuck from the room, and Will stood behind Paul's chair.

"Backing you up, mate, for sure."

Paul leaned his head back and looked up at Will. Neither spoke. With exchanged smiles, Paul felt the rush of a magic moment. He and Will had signed a silent contract—comrades and best sky buddies forever.

"Excuse me!” Calamity resumed control, breaking the spell. “Willis Dinker and Paul Winsome, close your eyes. Follow me in your imagination. See me. Follow me. Follow."

Paul closed his eyes and a shadow passed in front of his face. He tried to open his eyes, but instead entered blackness, full of sensed but unseen light, hurtled through space as his body stayed stationary, squeezed by an invisible energy trying to compress him into a new state of being.

Finally, Paul managed to open his eyes. He and Will were walking behind Calamity Horrid down a long, tiled corridor, their steps echoing. The walls were metal, and Paul knew they were no longer in Horrid Ice Castle.

A bright light at the far end, brilliant as the sun, didn't bother Paul's vision. They walked directly toward a very sturdy looking metal wall next to the light. The barrier's illusion folded around his body and hugged it like a protecting mother. For Paul, walking through the wall gave him a feeling of euphoria.

They stood in an amphitheater the size of a large city. The ceiling stretched high and wide enough to have its own set of indoor clouds, although they didn't look substantial enough to ride.

"Whoa, mate. This place is pulling me. I'm thinking it's a bad dream, sort of, for sure. A nightmare like."

"For sure,” Paul whispered back. “How'd you like walking through that wall?"

"Blimey! Worth the five years. And that trip here. Cloud riding is weird, but walking through that wall must be, like being a ghost."

Gray metal cabinets lined two sides of a pathway leading down the center of a floor large enough to hold a thousand ice rinks. Each locker had one, two or three handles, each container having its own handgrip color. Cabinet sizes ranged from knee-high breadboxes to gigantic cargo containers. Paul thought they looked cold and sad, all gray and lined up like soldiers at inspection, their individuality portrayed in their size and the color of their handle or handles.

Outside the rows of cabinets, every kind of armament Paul had ever seen or heard about filled the colossal hall. Eyes opened wide, he tried to take it all in. Cannons and cannonballs filled one corner. Artillery from the turrets of battleships leaned against a thick steel wall running the length of the building. A vast array of bombs stretched far as his eyes could see. Labels identified the types, atomic and hydrogen bombs, bunker-busting and cluster, neutron and napalm, nuclear and fire; bombs small enough to be carried in a belt pocket to large enough to overfill the largest of ships.

Hand grenades were piled high enough to reach the clouds overhead. Machine guns, hand-held to tripod mounted, from aircraft to ship types. Weapons from all periods of history filled the room.

Long narrow rocket cylinders lined the far wall, from the smallness of a toy to space exploration size. Piles of dynamite and plastic explosives sat next to pistols of every type, from cap to automatic. Mounds of brass knuckles, knives of every description, swords and chains, and bullets filled every available space. Some weapons he didn't recognize and figured they were from the distant past or future.

Next to stacks of flame throwers, one weapon caught Paul's eyes. He didn't recognize it. Being alone without others of a like nature, made it stand out like a dog at a cat show. A copper coil came out of a brown wooden box, its flanged end pointing toward the ceiling.

Paul studied the strange object which surely had to be a weapon because of all that surrounded it. “What's that?"

"Asteroid deflector,” Calamity said impatiently, as if Paul should have known. “It's what Harry Winsome used to save Earth if you must know."

"You're kidding?"

"Why would I? His mission is over, yours is not,” she said as if talking to a five-year-old.

"How does it work?” Paul touched it. It felt cold as he imagined most of the great cache of weapons would. “Is it some kind of gun?"

"It shot a deflector ray, one I conjured from the future, if it's so important for you to know."

"It's important for me to know,” Paul assured. “Then you saved Earth, not Dad?"

"I could not touch the darn thing!” Calamity said, her voice sharp and full of ire. “Only Harry could aim the thing.” Calamity stopped in front of a small closet-sized, blue-handled gray metal cabinet and tried to pull open the door. She twisted and clubbed her fist against the handle, yet the door wouldn't budge. “Why?” She gave the ceiling an accusatory glare. She looked at Paul. “Here, you have a go at it,” she said, sounding close to tears.

Glancing back at Will, Paul saw he swayed side to side, his gaze circling the room in a good imitation of a man hypnotized by weaponry.

Paul reached for the tiny blue handle, turned it upward and pulled on it. The door swung open.

A blue glow came from the interior of the cabinet and made Paul feel strangely warm and welcome. A voice from the interior startled him, not expecting a cabinet to speak.

"Welcome to the Solar System Saving Storage Locker, Paul Winsome,” the woman's deep, pleasant voice came from inside. “I am your friend.” The voice increased slightly and became charming until Paul could almost taste the sugar. He smelled perfume that gently hugged his nose. “Thank you, Calamity Horrid. You may leave now,” the cabinet lady said.

"How dare you!” Calamity Horrid roared in a voice more hungry lion than woman. “I brought Paul! You can not just ignore me like that. I
will
stay. Get on with your business!” Calamity grew several inches. “Proceed!"

"You may stay, Calamity Horrid. I am your friend also. I am Paul Winsome's friend,
and
Calamity Horrid's friend, now. I am deeply sorry for the misunderstanding about being your friend.” Her door slammed shut with a sharp metal clang that echoed throughout the hall. The handle twisted into its locked position.

Calamity leaped forward to grab the handle.

Paul ducked out of her way, more amused than scared. Not every day could he see a talking storage locker fight a bossy lady as they both pretended to be friendly.

The door popped open. “Who is the tall black boy?"

"I'm Will, for sure."

"Well, well, Will.” Her voice lowered in tone to one of seduction. “I am your friend also. See you later,” she cooed. Her door slammed shut once again, pulling Calamity with it.

Paul waited for a thought that might be productive. The image of a bright yellow bat-shaped bird appeared in his mind, then another and another, until a flock formed. Paul lowered his head in frustration. Ask for a useful thought and he gets birds. His mind pictured a rude gesture.

Calamity Horrid doubled her size in a blink, pushed Paul and Will aside and grabbed the handle. She twisted, pushed and tugged with the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cubs. Her body lifted into the air, putting all her considerable weight on the small blue handle. “You..!” She stopped and turned to Paul and Will. “Please put fingers into your ears and do not listen."

Paul grinned and would have laughed if he thought it safe to do so. He poked an index finger into each ear, and hummed to show Calamity he used his best sound deadening moves. ‘I can still hear you’ became the silent mantra of the song he hummed.

"Bitch!” Calamity shouted at the door. She backed from the cabinet, shrank to Paul's size and marched rearward, obviously defeated by the small blue handle. She motioned Paul forward for a try at opening the cabinet. Glaring at the door, she whispered, “Madam witch."

Paul easily opened the door, and the cabinet's interior glowed in a welcoming blue glow.

"Welcome to the Solar System Saving Storage Locker, Paul Winsome,” the lady cabinet again vocalized in her deep, pleasant, sugary voice. “I am your friend. Please remove all my contents. It is safe. I am your friend."

Paul reached inside. Red sparks attacked his hand like a swarm of killer bees. He yanked out his burnt hand and shook it, the burning sparks flying off and vanishing. “Ouch!” Searching his fingers, he couldn't see any signs of burn marks, nor did he feel any lingering pain.

"Mate, she's wicked, I'm thinking for sure."

"Willis!” Calamity shouted. “Shut up. Do not force me to turn you into a little black ant and step on you!"

"You can do that?” Paul quizzed. “You sure?"

"Forgive my joke,” the cabinet said. “I have waited for so long....” The cabinet glimmered an embarrassed crimson. “I am your friend. The Horrid lady can not turn my friend Will into anything without his consent; she just blows up like a bomb and should be removed from her position and placed on one of the bomb piles. But enough about her, Paul Winsome. Please remove all you view inside. It is safe. No new jokes. I am your friend."

Paul jabbed his hand in and out several times to test if the cabinet's joke phase had run its course.

"I am your friend,” it reminded him.

"You better be,” Paul warned in his best imitation of a confident superhero. He reached inside and touched a peanut-sized white pebble resting on the right side of the locker's single shelf and smiled in relief when it didn't bite. A small microscope occupied the left shelf corner. He glanced back at Calamity Horrid and flashed his largest grin. “See how easy it is, you just have to be nice to it."

Calamity shrank four inches, took another step backward and stared at Paul. The look on her face and the fire in her eyes suggested he had pushed her to a point beyond which safety existed.

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Paul turned his attention to the pebble and took it out of the cabinet. He rubbed a fingertip over its smooth surface, brought it closer to his eyes and scanned it carefully. Something tiny, perhaps a design, dark and squiggly colored its upper surface. He reached in and took the microscope out without incident. The viewing area contained a small trench the shape and size of the pebble he held in his other hand. He looked around for a table to set it on and found a waist high shelf on the right side of the cabinet, the exact size of the base of the microscope. He didn't remember seeing the shelf before. On the small ledge sat a brilliant white metal tool Paul recognized as a tuning fork. Because of the shelf's size, he had to remove the tuning fork before he could set down the microscope.

"I can hold that, mate,” Will said and held out his hand.

The tool's handle vibrated loose from Paul's grip, slid down and tried to fall into his trouser pocket before he managed to recapture it. He placed the microscope on the shelf and wanting to hear the fork's sound, struck it against the side of the cabinet. It clunked. “Okay,” he whispered, handing Will the non-functional tuning fork.

Paul jumped as the microscope's light turned itself on, accompanied by an electronic bored male voice. “Insert rock please."

The unexpected voice startled him. It took a moment for Paul to slow down the rapid pounding of his heart before he placed the pebble in the trench, carefully, half expecting another joke.

"Turn the rock over please,” said the uninterested microscope.

Paul had put the marked side face down. He lifted the pebble, turned it over and replaced it.

The eyepiece grew wider until he could read the message without having to bend over or squint. The handwritten message came into focus. Written in miniscule bold strokes, it read:

SOLAR SYSTEM SAVING ROCK. OWNER, PAUL WINSOME. PLEASE CARRY ROCK INTO VILE EXTINCTION WORMHOLE AND STRIKE WITH FORKED TOOL. THANK YOU.

The microscope droned, “Please take rock from platform. Place viewing device back into storage locker. Place rock into Paul Winsome trouser pocket. Do not allow tool and rock to touch. Relocate rock and tool and yourself as per instructions.” The microscope voice faded, saying, “The rock thanks you, the forked tool thanks you, I thank you."

Paul lifted the rock from its microscope platform cavity, put the pebble in his pants pocket, placed the scope back into the cabinet and jerked his hand backward. His expectation of a cabinet trick proved right-on, the door snapping shut without regard to his hand's presence. “So much for friendship."

A few pats on the outside of the door taunted the cabinet about his hand escaping. Looking at the door, he whispered, “Mean old witch."