Wheels (34 page)

Abacis looked at Hayes. Hayes nodded, and before McKenzie could stop him, walked over to Wells. “HAYES! Don’t!”

“Very well,” said Abacis. “You must promise he will remain in your quarters, away from Mallos and unharmed.”

Wells placed his hand on Hayes’ shoulder like a benevolent, loving father. “You have what I want and I have what you want. In return, I must have your promise the girl, more important, my Gate will remain unharmed.”

Abacis nodded. “Come,” he said to McKenzie.

McKenzie felt helpless. What good was it being the Corona-Soter or the Advitor if no one would listen to her?

Hayes looked pale, a fact made worse by the bruises covering his face, but his voice never faltered as he said, “Go on McKenzie. I’ll be fine.”

Abacis took hold of McKenzie’s wheelchair, and much to her irritation, pushed her into the forest. Before she knew it, McKenzie was gliding under the trees, keeping pace with the Tsendi.

Chapter 41

Excerpt from the personal log of Agent Wink Krumm

Wednesday, March 18th
Just outside Avondale

Ventured out to observe the alien device. It had ceased to glow, which meant, I presumed, it was no longer operational. At first view, it was rather disappointing. A triangular shaped object with a few jewels. It hardly seemed complicated enough to cause three beings to disappear. Experience, however, has taught me to never underestimate simplicity. Rather than touch the object and risk being dematerialized, I made note of its location, camouflaged it with a few branches should my investigation become compromised, and returned to the van.

***

HIGH TEA

Wednesday, March 18th
H.G. Wells’ Private Chamber

“
G
uards—outside!” ordered Wells. “Mallos, bring us tea. Wait—bother. Abacis is the only one who knows how to prepare a proper tea. Very well, do your best. But, make it hot and do not forget the milk and sugar.”

“Milk?” said Mallos.

“Sobolis milk, idiot. Now get out!” Mallos bowed and backed out of the room. Just before he disappeared, he made sure to fix Hayes with a look that clearly said, “Wait until I get you alone!”

Hayes was left standing awkwardly in front of Wells’ bed.

“Have a seat, boy.”

“My name is Hayes.”

“As you wish, Master Hayes.” Wells was admiring himself in front of a small piece of glass hanging on the wall by his desk. Presumably pleased with what he saw he turned around, smiled and said, “I believe we’ve gotten off to a poor start. I’ve underestimated you. You’re far more resourceful than I thought. Usually your kind—”

“What ‘kind’? You don’t even know me.”

Wells looked at Hayes as if, indeed, he didn’t know what to make of such a creature. Finally, his expression changed, a generous smile replacing the look of confusion. No— more than generous, thought Hayes, searching for a better word—magnanimous; a smile that managed to make Hayes feel both important and small at the same time. “You must forgive me, Master Hayes. I’ve made a grave error. In fact, I am quite certain you have been grossly underestimated your entire life. To that end, I intend to rectify that most
unfortunate
of circumstances.”

Mallos returned carrying a tray with some surprisingly civilized looking cups and saucers and a pitcher that obviously contained tea. The cups, saucers and the pitcher appeared to be made out of some sort of copper metal. It struck Hayes that they were the most civilized things he’d seen in Wells’ compound.

“On the desk, Mallos. Milk?”

“I hate tea,” said Hayes.

Mallos grunted as if he approved.

“Of course you don’t
hate
tea. You’re an American; you’ve probably never had proper tea. Mallos, five—no six lumps of sugar for the boy and heavy on the sobolis milk. I believe young gentleman, such as you, prefer it that way. I’ll prepare mine myself.”

Mallos prepared Hayes a cup of ‘proper English tea’ and then seemed to take great pleasure in handing it to him. Probably because he thought Hayes would hate it. Surprisingly though—most surprising to Hayes—he liked it and drank it down quickly.

Grinning, Hayes handed the cup back to Mallos and demanded more. It was probably stupid to be so brazenly happy about bossing the big, ugly Tsendi around, but with the knowledge that Wells needed something from him, Hayes decided to get in some well earned revenge while he could.

“There’s nothing more civilized than a good strong cup of English tea,” said Wells.

“English?” said Hayes, still wondering just how English Wells really was. Was he human English or Alien English?

“Well…as close as I can find to something civilized. Mallos, fix the boy his cup of tea and be off. No, wait—fix his tea, then fetch some of that salve you Tsendi think so highly of. The boy’s wrists are raw and his face is difficult for me to look at.”

Mallos grunted something that sounded like, “Yes, Oh, Great One,” then fixed the tea and backed quickly out of the room, keeping one angry bulbous eye locked on Hayes who was quietly regretting his decision to seek revenge.

Hayes drank his tea in silence while Wells once again busied himself in front of the mirror. The man was mean, crazy and unabashedly vain!

A few minutes later, Mallos returned with the salve, then left under Wells’ instructions to get his Olt-tsoot team together. Hayes hoped this meant he wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

“As you can see,” said Wells, tearing himself away from his image, “proper servants are difficult to come by. These Tsendi are, at best, primitive.”

“Not ‘your kind,’” said Hayes.

“Exactly! Not our kind, not our kind at all. Which is why I have a proposition for you.” Then Wells surprised Hayes by looking him straight in the eye. “One, I believe you’ll agree, will benefit both of us.”

There was something oddly familiar about Wells’ stare. It was only after he looked away that he realized what it was; Wells’ eyes were the same color as McKenzie’s eyes. “What about McKenzie?”

“Ah yes. As I stated, it’s clear to me that back on Earth you were grossly underestimated.”

“Why would you think that?” Wells’ assumption annoyed Hayes. Back on Earth, he thought, most kids looked up to him.

“Calm yourself, Master Hayes. I meant nothing by it. Let me state this plainly, I’m going to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime. Ah, but not just one lifetime—many, many lifetimes.”

Good. Bigot or not, Wells wanted something from him; which meant, for the moment, Hayes was in the driver’s seat.

“As you’re well aware, I have been on this planet for more than one hundred years. And if all things stay the same, I should have a good two hundred years left in me. What do you say to that?”

“I’d say that’s a long time,” said Hayes. He almost felt sorry for Mallos.
Two hundred more years of taking orders from the old turd—what a bummer.

“Two hundred years, ruling as I please,” continued Wells. “There are drawbacks of course. Sacrifices…so many sacrifices. But it’s worth it. On Earth, I’d never have had such an opportunity.”

“True,” said Hayes, playing along. Back on Earth, Wells would never have gotten the chance to live in a forest that stinks like yesterday’s puke or be King of the bulbous-eyed Tsendi.
And who wouldn’t want that?
“But what about the Circanthians?”

“Circanthians!” The very word seemed to irritate Wells. His face turned red, his voice went up a pitch the way adults’ voices do when they believe they have something important to say. “Young man, where in history has there ever been a place for civilizations based on non-aggressive, intellectual, mumbo jumbo magic?”

“Huh?”

“AGGRESSION!” Wells’ hand shot up into the air, as if he were brandishing a sword. “Civilizations thrive on it. Fall without it. Look at Alexander the Great? The Roman Empire. Invade and conquer. Subvert and civilize.”

“Subvert?”

“And civilize! As an American, you should understand. Did the colonists invite the Queen over for tea and crumpets to talk about their freedom?”

“You have a point.”

“I knew you’d see it my way. You’re a clever boy. However, as I said, there have been sacrifices.”

Hayes doubted Wells knew anything about sacrifice. Even on Earth, he’d probably been a privileged English white man. Hayes’ Aunt…on the other hand, knew all about sacrifice. Hayes blinked his eyes and pushed the image of Aunt Patty from his mind.

“The problem is,” continued Wells, “I have no one to talk to. No one who is my intellectual equal. Abacis was coming along. I saw promise, but…ah well, he is only Tsendi, after all.”

“Doesn’t even know how to play chess,” said Hayes, pretending to have something in his eye.

“Yes! By Jove, you do understand! My, my….” Wells smiled. “Please, don’t shed a tear on my account, though it is terribly thoughtful of you. Right! So you understand why I wish you to stay and share this with me—as my number one, that is.”

“What about McKenzie?”

“Her again! She does seem to be on the other side, doesn’t she?”

“I guess so. But you need her, ah…”

“Gate, right.” Wells began to pace. “It would be nice to take a quick trip home for supplies: tea, for example, hey, what? We need a Gate, however…” He stopped in front of Hayes. “How should I put this? Too many cooks spoil the pot, if you know what I mean.”

Hayes did. McKenzie was one too many cooks. “I’m hungry,” he said, for the subject of cooking had sparked something—a plan! Whether it would work or not was yet to be seen.

“Of course you are, a growing boy like you.”

Hayes lifted his left hand and made it shake a little. Wells took the bait.

“I wish I could have some more of that food I had last night.” Then Hayes took his right hand and grabbed his left arm, as if to make it stop shaking.

Wells smiled—a benevolent, ingratiating smile. He thought Hayes, not being one of ‘his kind’, had become addicted to cobaca fruit. Yet, despite what Wells thought, Hayes
was
one of his kind…but McKenzie wasn’t. Not totally, anyway. Would the cobaca froot affect her like it affected the Circanthians? He needed to warn her.

“I have just the thing.” Wells looked pleased with himself. “Guards!”

Two nervous looking guards rushed in.

“Hand that to me.” Wells pointed to a pouch hanging around the smaller Tsendi’s waist.

The Tsendi looked as if he were going to cry.

“NOW!” shouted Wells.

The Tsendi ripped the pouch from his waist and handed it to Wells, then stepped back and stood, head down, as if he’d been whipped.

Wells handed the pouch to Hayes. “Enjoy. It’s a sweet treat, perfect for a boy your age.”

Hayes took the pouch and with as much fake enthusiasm as he could muster, took one of the dried red pieces of cobaca froot and stuck it in his mouth.

The guards moaned.

Hayes chewed it as many times as he could, without throwing up that is, then swallowed. “Thank you,” he said, affecting the biggest grin he could manage.

“There’s plenty more where that came from!”

Hayes smiled and choked down a few more.

The guards moaned louder and louder. Wells didn’t stop them, either taking pleasure in the Tsendi’s suffering, or realizing it was beyond even his power to stop the moaning.

“I’m tired,” said Hayes, extending the word into a wide yawn to cover the fact that his stomach had begun to lurch. “That prison bed wasn’t exactly comfortable.”

Wells hesitated, but not for long. “Rest here, I have some business to attend to.” He turned to go, then paused. “Do you play chess?”

“Bishop takes Queen. Checkmate!” Of course Hayes knew how to play chess. He had six games going on his iPhone and was winning all of them.

Wells’ face lit up. “Think of it, Master Hayes: The King’s right-hand-man! Never on Earth would you have such an opportunity.”

Hayes yawned. “I’ll sleep on it.”

“Then we’ve come to an agreement?”

Hayes nodded and yawned again, wider this time. He wished Wells would go.

“Good.” Wells turned to leave then, much to Hayes’ frustration, he paused again. Back to Hayes, the door half open, running a hand through his hair as if trying to stimulate his memory, he said, “This girl…she is a good friend of yours?”

“McKenzie? I guess you could say she’s a friend.” Hayes smiled, calling McKenzie his friend felt good. No, it felt wonderful—then he caught himself. “A girl who’s always bossing me around and telling me what to do.” Of course, that was also somewhat true.

“Well, we’ll have none of that here—except from me, hey, hey! But all the Tsendi shall be at your service.”

Hayes tried to imagine Mallos taking orders from him. “Gotta sleep,” he said, lying down.

“I’ll leave two guards to watch over you.” Wells left, allowing the door to swing shut behind him.

Hayes lay on his back, pouch in hand, staring at the swinging door. The Tsendi guards stood like stone sentinels on either side. When the swinging stopped, he saw the smaller Tsendi glance over and then quickly look away.

“Look,” said Hayes. “I can’t sleep with you two in here. How about you wait outside.”

Neither Tsendi moved.

Hayes yawned and turned on his side. He tossed around a bit more and then sat up again. “Okay, how about I give you this back?” He held out the pouch. “
If
you promise to wait outside.”

The smaller Tsendi stepped forward, stepped back, and began to shake.

“You heard the Advitor, I’m his new number one. That means you gotta listen to me.”

The Tsendi looked at each other. Finally, the larger one shrugged his big hairy shoulders, while the smaller one ran forward, grabbed the pouch from Hayes’ outstretched hand and left. The larger one looked at Hayes, growled and walked out behind the other Tsendi.

Hayes waited at least a full minute after the door had stopped swinging, then jumped out of bed. He didn’t know how much time he’d have, but he knew exactly where to look. McKenzie had told him. Despite some curiosity, he didn’t waste time studying the objects on top of the box, but quickly placed them on the bed, retaining what appeared to be a long, thick, sharp needle to pry open the bottom.