The Road to Amber (12 page)

(frowns, then laughs)

Of course I can understand caring about something! Why do you think I’d decided to take Governor Caisson right when I did? The son of a bitch’s business policies had just cost the town a pro football franchise—for one of my favorite teams. And I’d been angling to get them here for decades.

So you
were
grabbing him off early?

You bet I was! Then you had to butt in for the first time in your life.

I begin to understand…Say, Morrie, you know it’s not too late to transfer my flame to a fresh candle.

True. And you
are
my godson. That still counts for something.

(He stares at the candle)

Probably should. Shouldn’t stay mad forever. Family counts for something.

He stoops and reaches into an opened case back in a recess in the wall. As he does so, DAVID withdraws his left hand from his pocket and reaches forward, touching the failing candle. Drawing forth a fresh candle, MORRIE stands and reaches forward with his other hand toward DAVID’s sputtering taper. He touches it, begins to raise it. Then it slips from his fingers and plunges to the ground.

Shit! Sorry, David!

[Candle goes out. Fade.]

SCENE 2

Lights come up on same scene. MORRIE is no longer there. DAVID is lying on his stomach on the floor. DOREL stands nearby. DAVID raises his head, looks about. He places his palms on the floor and pushes himself up. A candle stub is guttering beside him.

Get a candle out of the box, Dave! Hurry! You’ve got to take the flame from the other before it dies again! Never saw one come back on again the way yours did.

DAVID reaches for a small item lying beside the candle, picks up his Five Minute Time Warp. He had activated it when he touched the candle earlier.

I knew I’d find a use for the Five Minute Time Warp one day!

With his other hand, DAVID gropes in the carton, takes our a candle, moves it to a position above the failing flame and holds it there. The fresh candle catches the flame. He turns the candle upright and rises to his feet.

I want to take you to another tunnel where we can hide your candle amid many. We ought to hurry, in case he’s still in the area.

DAVID walks with DOREL, carrying his candle.

Could you locate Betty’s candle, too?

Given the time, the appropriate form and the access.

(They continue walking down another tunnel)

I used to work here. I was an invisible entity before he made me a bike. IfI were an invisible entity here again I could keep moving your candle and Betty’s so that he’d never know. I could correct any number of his petty abuses the way I used to. Might keep lighting you new ones, too, if you got into bleafage research.

I could be persuaded. What would it take to make you an invisible entity again?

I’m not permitted to say.

Even if I order you?

Even then. This is a different category of restriction. I can’t think of a way to tell you how to get around this one.

They move a little farther down the tunnel and stop.

To your left, in that low niche where several others are burning.

DAVID dribbles a little wax to anchor his candle, sets it upon that spot, holds it in place until it’s fixed.

Mount.

(DAVID climbs onto the seat)

Back to where you were?

Yes.

They arrive in front of the governor’s mansion, DAVID dismounts, sets the kickstand. The front door opens. BETTY appears.

Dave!

(DAVID watches as she approaches him. They embrace.)

Dave, what happened? You just sort of faded away.

My godfather, Morrie, took me. I’d done something he didn’t like.

Your godfather? You never mentioned him before. How could he do that?

He is a person with a great power over life, who is responsible for whatever power I possess over death. Fortunately, he thinks I’m dead now. So I believe I’ll have some reconstructive surgery, change the spelling of my name, grow a beard, move to another state and run a small, low-key practice to cover the expense of my bleafage research. I love you. Will you marry me and come along?

I hate to tell you that you sound a little crazy, Dave, but you do.

(staring at bike)

Are you a ventriloquist, too?

No, that was Dorel talking. He just saved my life. He’s a rebel spirit doing time as a bicycle, and he’s been with me since I was a kid. Saved my life a couple of times then, too.

DAVID pats DOREL’s seat. BETTY leans forward and kisses the top of the handlebars.

I know. I’ve ridden him with you, remember? Thanks, Dorel, whatever you are.

DOREL falls apart into a smoking collection of golden motes.

What did I just set off?

Beats me. But since there was no frog I don’t think you get a prince.

Guess I’m stuck with you, then.

They watch as the bright cloud assembles itself into a human shape—that of a tall, bewhiskered man in buckskins. He bows to BETTY.

Don Laurel. At your service, ma’am.

(He turns and shakes DAVID’s hand.)

Sorry to deprive you of transportation, Dave. But I just got my enchantment broken.

Calls for a celebration.

(shaking his head)

Now that I’m unbiked I have to find a niche quick, or I’ll fade to airy nothingness. So I’ll be heading back below, and I’ll take up residence in the caves. He’ll never spot an extra invisible entity. And I’ll keep moving both of your candles out of his way. Good luck with the bleafage work. I’ll be in touch.

He turns to smoke again. When it clears he is gone.

That’s a relief.

(He embraces BETTY once again.)

But I wish things had gone differently with Morrie. I like him. I’m going to miss him.

He doesn’t exactly sound like a nice guy.

His line of work hardens him a bit. He’s actually quite sensitive.

How can you tell?

He likes football and chess.

They both represent violence—physical, and abstract.

…and hot chocolate. And Schubert’s Quartet in D Minor. And he does care about the balance between life and death, most of the time.

I know he’s family. But he scares me.

BETTY comes in on repeat of last two stanzas.

Well, we’re going incognito now. Morrie shouldn’t be a problem if we keep a low profile.

[Fade.]

SCENE 3

(addresses audience)

I was able to leave it at that for a long time. Betty and I were married, and I did change my name and move to a small town in the South—though I opted against cosmetic surgery. The beard and tinted glasses and a different hair style altered my appearance considerably, or so I thought. I built up a satisfactory practice, had a greenhouse full of bleafage, and set up a small home laboratory. For over a year I managed not to be present at life-and-death crises, and when visiting my patients in the hospital I was able to avoid other patients at terminal moments which might have resulted in an undesired family reunion. You might say I was pathologically circumspect in this regard; even so, I did glimpse Morrie going around corners on a few occasions. I kept wondering, though, given my line ofwork, when—not if—we would meet, and whether I would be able to carry the encounter with sufficient aplomb so as not to reveal that I possessed the ability to see him. When it did occur, of course, it was nowhere near the hospital, and I was not even thinking of these matters. It was a summer-hot Saturday evening…

Squeal of brakes followed by the sound of a heavy impact o.s. DAVID grabs his medical kit, and a flashlight and runs out. BETTY follows him to the corner where two cars have collided. There is broken glass everywhere. Each vehicle has but a driver. DAVID moves rapidly to one of them, checks for a pulse, shakes his head. The other driver, a younger man, was thrown from the car and lies on the pavement, covered with blood. DAVID checks him, too.

(to BETTY)

He’s still breathing. Go call 911!

BETTY exits. DAVID slaps a cover on the man’s pneumothorax and moves to deal with the bleeding. MORRIE enters. DAVID glances up, returns to his work with a nod.

Can’t argue with you about this one. Take him if you must.

No. Save him for me, Dave. Shoot him up with bleafage. You’ve got all the time you need.

What’s so special about him, Morrie? I haven’t forgotten how you treated me when I wanted to make an exception.

All right. I’ll forgive and forget if you’ll do the same—and save this guy. My power, as I’ve said, is not over death. If I simply don’t take him, he’ll be a vegetable.

Then how’s about you promise to let me save whom I wish, and do whatever I would with the bleafage? You know I’ll be discreet.

Looks like you’re doing it, anyway. But all right, I’ll make it formal.

I wish you could have been at my wedding, Morrie.

I was there.

You were? I didn’t see you.

I was in the back. I wore bright colors so you wouldn’t notice me.

The guy in the Hawaiian shirt?

Yes, that was me.

I’ll be damned.

And I sent you that microwave oven.

There was no card with it—

Well, we weren’t talking.

I did wonder about the CandlePower brand name. Good oven, though, I’ll give you that. Thanks.

(Injured man on ground moans)

About this guy, Morrie…why are you so dead set against taking him?

You don’t recognize him?

Too much blood on his face.

That’s the new quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons.

No kidding. But what about the balance between life and death and all that?

They’re really going to need him this season.

I forgot you were a Falcons fan.

The bleafage, boy, the bleafage!

As the lights fade, DAVID approaches and addresses the audience.

And so… The Falcons have been doing well for some time now, not the least because of their new quarterback. Not too many people die during Falcons games, because Morrie comes by for beer and pizza and we watch them on the tube together. He collects with a vengeance afterwards, though, if the Falcons don’t do well. Read the obits. Morrie hints strongly that he’d like to know what I did with the candles. But he can keep on wondering. Don Laurel and I stay in touch. He comes by every Halloween for a glass of blood with a dash of heparin and we bring each other up to date on everything from bleafage to candles. And sometimes he changes into a bicycle for old times’ sake, and we ride between the worlds. This morning I walked back to the crossroads where the accident had occurred…