George Brown and the Protector (12 page)

“Welcome,” it said in a slithering, harsh
voice. It’s face twisted into a sickening smile. “How nice of you
to come visit us.”

As if out of nowhere, a huge whip appeared in
the creature’s mangled paw. Quick as lightning it lashed out at
George and Emberly. With a scream trapped in his throat, George
turned to run. He was too late. The whip twisted around his arms
and legs as if it were a snake. Everywhere it touched him, it felt
icy cold. It wrapped around him and bound him so tightly that he
couldn’t move.

George struggled and kicked but couldn’t work
his way free of the whip. He tried to cry out, but nothing came out
of his parched throat. He felt a sudden sting on his back and a
line of icy coldness twisting around him, and realized that another
of the creatures had imprisoned him with its whip as well. George
staggered, trying to run, but couldn’t seem to move. The creatures
yanked on their whips, pulling George closer. He stumbled and fell.
Hearing a thud next to him he turned to see Emberly struggling to
free herself from the whips of two of the other creatures.

George felt hot breath on his neck. Looking
up he was horrified to see the hideous face of one of the creatures
a foot in front of him. The stench of its putrid breath nearly made
him faint. A dribble of slobber dropped from the creature’s mouth
onto George’s shirt.

George felt icy cold. He couldn’t move and
blackness seemed to be gathering around him. Everything started to
turn grey.

And then, like a tiny shaft of light piercing
through an empty darkness, George heard a faint thread of simple
music. It seemed to come from far away, like an almost forgotten
dream coming back to memory. The creature towering over him seemed
to hesitate, not certain what to do.

The music grew louder. It was a simple
melody, beautifully sung. George could not understand the words,
but sensed that they spoke of purity and goodness. Struggling, he
managed to turn around enough to see where the sound was coming
from—and was amazed to see that it was from Emberly! She was
singing softly, her eyes closed, still imprisoned by the whips. A
creature hovering over her had a look on its face of pain.

The singing stopped for an instant, and the
spell seemed broken. Emberly cried, “Sing, George!” Then she was
singing again and the magic returned. She was louder this time, and
as she sang her strength seemed to grow.

‘Sing?’ thought George. That made no sense.
How could a simple song overcome these powerful creatures?

But then again, a lot of things lately didn’t
make sense. Like how a little, clear rock could answer math
questions, or help find things. Or how a funny little creature from
another world could live sideways through time and foretell the
future.

Remembering his Uth rock, George struggled,
groping with his hands, trying to reach the rock in its pouch in
his pocket. He couldn’t do it. His hands were bound too
tightly.

Emberly was looking intently at George, as if
willing him to join her in singing. George opened his mouth to
sing, but no sound came out. The whip was tightening around George
so he could hardly breathe. The creature leaning over him was
bending closer, and George knew he had to act fast.

CHAPTER 18: Escape

In a croaked
whisper that he could hardly hear himself, George sang, “Joy to the
world, the Lord is come, let earth receive her king.”

He didn’t know why he had chosen that song.
It was just the first one that came into his head. However, the
effect was immediate. The creature hovering over George jerked back
in distaste as if stung, and the whips binding George seemed to
loosen a bit.

With renewed strength, George kept singing.
“Let every heart prepare him room, and saints and angels sing, and
saints and angels sing, and saints, and saints and angels
sing.”

George could hear Emberly singing next to
him, and could tell her voice was getting stronger as well.
Although their songs were very different, they seemed to intertwine
in the air like twisting vines climbing up a wall. The Grak stepped
back, uncomfortably. Several were holding their hands over their
ears. The whips were loose enough now that George could wriggle
free of their grasp.

Without stopping his song, George struggled
free of the whips and stood up. Emberly was standing also, still
singing her haunting, peaceful melody. Several of the Grak took a
menacing step forward, waving their paws in the air as if to fight
off the songs that filled the clearing.

Suddenly there was a loud crack and a
brilliant flash of light seared the air from George’s left. The
Grak all jumped and turned, and found themselves facing the
protector who stood at the edge of the clearing. Although still
short and bald, he had a terrible look on his face of determination
and strength that George had never seen before. He held a small,
round object in his hand that seemed to pulse and glow.

The protector held up the round object and
commanded, “Leave this place! Now!”

The Grak didn’t respond or move. In the
instant of their hesitation, there was another ear splitting crack
from the device in the protector’s hand, and the clearing was again
filled with a brilliant, overpowering light.

The Grak scattered. In seconds there were
none to be seen. George heard a humming noise from the nearby
bushes where they had disappeared. Then he saw what looked like a
small spacecraft shoot into the sky and disappear.

Quickly the protector strode over to George
and Emberly. “Are you all right?” he asked urgently. “Did they hurt
you in any way?”

“I’m fine,” George said in a shaky voice.
Emberly said nothing, but stood shivering in the warm sunshine. It
looked like there were tears in her eyes. Suddenly she
collapsed.

“Quick!” said the protector to George, “help
me carry her back to the car!”

The protector lifted her up and George
grabbed her legs. Together, they struggled toward the car, fighting
their way through the thick bushes. When they reached the car,
George saw that the protector had packed away the gauzy transporter
and its frame, and had cleared away most of the bushes that had
surrounded the Volkswagen, although it was still scratched and
scarred.

The protector opened the door and pulled
Emberly onto the passenger seat and then gently pushed her forward
toward the tiny door. Instantly she seemed to disappear, and then
George could see her lying on the floor beneath the seat. The
protector quickly followed. As he gently dragged her toward the
door of his home, he yelled up at George, “come down and help me
get her in.”

Without hesitation, George dove onto the
passenger seat of the car, then leaned forward. He again felt
himself falling while everything around him seemed to expand
instantly in size. Then he was running toward the protector who
nearly had Emberly to the door.

Together they pulled her into the protector’s
lair. The instant they did so, the legs that George had been
carrying disappeared and he found himself holding nothing but empty
air. The protector was holding the pink furball that was Emberly,
and had himself changed back to the flabby, small gray creature
that was his true form.

“I’ve got some ‘heal all’ spray over in the
cupboard,” said the protector. “Here, you hold her for a minute.”
He shoved Emberly into George’s hands, then sprinted over to the
cupboard.

George looked down at the furball in his
hands. It was silent and didn’t move, in stark contrast to the
bouncing, constantly moving shape he was used to seeing. “She saved
us,” he said in a thick voice. “She started to sing right when it
looked like they had us, and her singing changed everything.” He
turned shakily to the protector. “Will she be all right?”

“I hope so,” said the protector, returning
with a small spray bottle. “The effort and the strain of meeting
the Grak again was probably too much for her. There’s nothing
physically wrong with her. She’s just in shock.” The protector took
Emberly over to the table where he started to carefully spray the
‘heal all’ spray onto the pink furball.

“What did you mean when you said she met the
Grak again?” asked George, perplexed. “When did she meet the Grak
the first time? Over the last few days?”

The protector looked gravely at George for a
moment. Then he said quietly, “It was the Grak that destroyed her
world, and everyone in it. Including all of her family. Somehow
they turned all the Praetorians into stone. She alone
survived.”

The protector turned back to Emberly and
sprayed some more of the ‘heal all’ spray. Then silently the two
watched the furball for a moment.

Suddenly it shuddered, then started to roll
slowly in a circle around the table top.

The protector smiled. “She’s all right,” he
said happily. “She’s still in shock I’m sure, but appears to be
o.k.” He walked over and flopped on the couch with a sigh of
relief. “Come here and tell me what happened.”

George took a seat on the fuzzy chair
opposite the couch. The arms sticking out of it started to gently
scratch his back. He had to admit the scratching felt pretty
good.

Quickly George told what had happened while
the protector looked at him gravely. When George had finished the
protector said, “I don’t think they were expecting us. But their
being there explains the thick bushes that came out of nowhere.
They usually bring ‘insta-grow’ bushes or buildings or walls to
hide their actions wherever they go. I don’t think they even
realized the transporter was there when they placed the bushes,
since of course it was invisible at the time.

“But what were they doing there?” asked
George.

“Obviously, checking on the fallen star, and
making sure it will do whatever they plan for it to do.”

“What about the singing?” asked George. “Why
did that drive them away?”

“As you know,” replied the protector, “the
Grak are evil and cruel. The songs you and Emberly sang were pure
and simple and good. Emberly knew instinctively that is what she
needed to do to survive, because of what had happened on her
planet. I know it sounds strange, but they can’t stand that kind of
purity. It weakens their power.”

“But Emberly’s people on her world were still
destroyed,” said George. “Why didn’t they just sing to save
themselves?”

“Well, the songs didn’t really scare them
away today,” replied the protector. “Like I said, I don’t think
they were expecting us, or they would have been ready. Because this
weakness of the Grak is known, they usually wear very thick ear
muffs if they know they will encounter someone who might use purity
against them. Really, all your songs did was put them off until I
arrived and could drive them away with the light bomb.”

“The light bomb?” repeated George, dumbly.
“What’s that?”

The protector pulled out of his pocket the
strange round object that he had used against the Grak. It looked
similar to a golf ball.

“This is the light bomb,” said the protector,
“and it is exactly what its name implies. It contains pure light,
which the Grak cannot stand. A few flashes of this and they will
usually leave.”

George shook his head. “This is all so
weird,” he said. “So, you can fight the Grak with songs and light.
Why not just use guns or other weapons.”

“Purity is more effective against the Grak,”
replied the protector. “I know it sounds very odd. But you should
see some of the wars the Grak have had with other creatures. Maybe
if you come over some night I can find and show you one on the
intergalactic late, late movie.”

“The chief weapons of the Grak are depression
and despair,” said the protector. “I’d bet that’s what stands out
in your mind when you think of what happened today.”

George nodded affirmatively.

“The Grak have been in many wars with
creatures who cannot be killed,” continued the protector. “Amazing
as it may seem to you, there are many races and creatures in the
universe that cannot die in the regular way that you think of. But
they can be captured. That is the greatest threat of the Grak, and
their greatest art. They prefer to capture and imprison their
enemies and make them slaves, even including those that can be
killed.”

“Battles with the Grak are bizarre, strange
affairs. They’re usually full of light and music instead of
explosions and shooting. The Grak literally throw balls of despair
at their enemies, which they are very good at creating. When the
despair hits, their enemies usually drop their weapons, fall on
their knees and weep, wishing they were dead. Those who fight the
Grak use light and pure music and similar weapons. The battlefield
is a constantly shifting scene of light and dark, for the Grak also
have the ability to actually throw darkness and shadows to surround
their enemies. These wars are nothing like the battles you people
have on this planet. In a way, they are far more sinister and
frightening, since if the Grak win, they take the very souls of
their enemies. There are some things worse than death, you
know.”

“Then,” said George slowly, struggling to
force himself to say what he knew he must, “since they’ve
apparently captured my dad like I saw that night, they must have
subjected him to despair and other terrible things. How could he
survive?”

“The Grak suppress their worst weapons when
they want to,” replied the protector. “If they want to preserve
someone to do something for them, they won’t torture them too
badly. In your dad’s case, since they’ve had him for a year, there
is probably something they want him to do. They’ve probably used
just enough of their weapons of despair to intimidate and frighten
him, and keep him under their control. They’re masters at enslaving
people and getting them to do what they want.”