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The Kansas Incident. - Aspect 3.
Timing is everything. In comedy, in life, even in crossing the street. I was so focused on where I was going and what I was going to do, I didn't see the little white truck as its brakes screamed at me and came to a rest just not quite nipping at my knees.
I turned, in shock at what might have happened and at the face I saw in the driver's side. Chris, April's husband was pale, wide-eyed and slack jawed. I felt my legs start to give way, and put my hand on the hot hood to steady myself. Chris got out of the truck and came over to me.
"What the heck did you think you were you doing?" He yelled at me. "You could have been killed!"
"Hi Chris," I muttered, feeling the blood rush back to my head. My ears rang and my vision swam a bit. "How's things?"
He put his arm under my shoulder and helped me to the curb. "Let me get my truck out of the street and don't move. I'll be right back." He crawled back into his truck and pulled into a parking space near me.
"You must have been going somewhere pretty important," he said, rejoining me on the curb.
We sat there like a couple of old men, just talking.
"I was going up the block," I told him. "I need to find a book."
"Huh." Chris nodded. "Can I help?"
I debated on what do with him. I didn't expect Chris to show up, so now what to do with him. He didn't seem to have any natural magic, unless you call being able to make pretty much everything work magic. Chris was one of those people that could look at a thing, see the potential that lie within it, and bring that potential into reality. It caused a thought to bubble to the top of my tiny brain.
"Pan?" I muttered to that corner of my mind where my Aspect generally slept. "Pan, can you read an Aspect in Chris?"
A rumble from that small part of my brain answered. "Well, there's a spark there, yep. Not a very big one, but it's there. I'd keep him around, if I were you," Pan told me. "This guy may not be a heavy hitter in the Otherworld, but I got a feeling he's darn good in a tight spot."
"Okay," I shot back to my Aspect, "thanks."
To Chris I said, "Yeah. I think you can. I'm going up the block to a place where old school books are stored. I'm looking for a school yearbook from about 30 or 40 years ago."
"A yearbook, huh?" Chris nodded again. He looked at me. "You feeing okay?"
"Yeah, I just wasn't looking where I was going, is all." I stood up. My legs held me and time was running short. "You willing to help me?" I gave him a small grin. "The place may be locked and I don't have a key. If we're caught, it might not be fun."
"Fun?" Chris stood up as well and dusted his pants off. "Breaking into a place in daylight? Hold on." He walked over to his truck and opened the driver's side door. He rummaged around inside the cab of the truck and pulled out a small black pouch. When he joined me again, he said, "Let's go. We'll make our own fun."
We walked up the block to the Depository. It was a two-story structure, old brick and mortar, well on its way to a slow crumbly decay into history. Most of the windows were blocked by cardboard and dust, but a few of them were clear enough I could see mounds of books inside, the same view I got when I was here just two days ago. The front door stood facing Main Street.
"Let's try the back," I said.
Chris followed me just a bit down Douglas Street to the alley behind the Depository. One of the things I missed when I moved to Oklahoma from Indiana were alleys. Alleys are the friend of all small children and gave the answers to more secrets than any book ever could.
The back door was up a small flight of iron stairs. I crept up them, with Chris not far behind. The door was also metal, steel more likely, and fairly well rusted by the weather. The lock had been torn out and a shiny chain and padlock set had replaced it.
"Well, that's going to be tricky," I said.
"Not really," Chris said as he pushed past me. He opened his pouch and pulled out a widget that had two cylinders, a green one and a red one. He struck a match and dialed a little dial on the thing and a yellow flame shot out. He turned the dial a bit more and it turned into a blue flame, which he put to the chain. Sparks flew and he melted through one of the links pretty darn quick.
"I think I need to get one of those," I said.
Chris grinned. "Never hurts to be prepared."
"What else do you have in that bag," I wondered.
"I'm not telling," he said with a Cheshire grin.
He looked around and seeing the coast was clear, he pulled the chain apart and opened the door. The door complained a bit, and moved like the rusted sheet of metal it was. The building was dark inside, and there was a small staircase leading down to the floor.
"It doesn't look like a good place," Chris observed.
"That's why I brought this," I said. I pulled a small flashlight from my jacket pocket and turned it on. The space inside looked like your typical warehouse, with piled boxes and dust everywhere.
"Are those footprints?" Chris pointed at the floor.
There were, indeed, footprints, and fresh ones at that. The dust on the floor had only been disturbed recently and they led to one box out of all the others.
"Let's check out that box first," I suggested. "We might get lucky."
"Good," Chris said. "I like luck. Luck is good, and this place is creepy."
We went down the stairs and over to the box. It was a fairly large box, old and the cardboard was marked with the year '1933'. I opened the top and shone my light into it.
Another, brighter light joined mine. "That's a lot of books," Chris observed.
"Yep," I said. "We're just looking for one." I started digging through the old books.
I love old books. Their feel, their smell, the language. I looked at the copyright of one of them, a book on field mechanics, and it was dated 1928. I could have spent two or three days in this place, if I didn't have to deal with bad guys. I sighed.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Chris said. He shone his light around the warehouse. There were more things than just books. In the corner was an old drill press, probably pushing nearly seventy years old. A few other forgotten bits of machinery lay about. "I wish I could just walk out of here with some of this stuff."
I shuffled through the books and found a slim volume. It looked like the book in my daydream. I pulled it out and the cover read 'Blue Devils". The year was 1933.
"I think this is it," I said, holding it up. "I hope this is it." I found an old chair and sat down, flipping through the pages. It wasn't a thick volume, since the class of '39 wasn't very large. Chris continued to wander thought the warehouse. "Be careful, okay," I warned him as I looked at some very old faces looking back at me. "We're still not safe here."
"I'll keep an eye out," he said. He disappeared through a doorway, his light leading his way.
I checked my watch. Just after 6:30. The kids should be at McCann's by now, hopefully raising some sort of noise.
I heard a noise from the room where Chris had gone. "Chris? You okay?"
"Yeah," he called back. "Just found some cool stuff. I think there's rats in here, too."
"Hmm." I opened my Sight and looked around. I should have done this earlier. All around were the shadowy forms of the boxes and books. I saw Chris' aura, a shiny yellowish glow, hunched over a tall misty form that could be pretty much anything.
I saw five or six tiny orangey spots that might have been rats or might have been mice. They didn't look dangerous, but you never know.
"I think we better hurry, Chris." I pulled back my Sight and flipped through the pages, and found Andrew Lawrence. Or at least where the picture of Andrew Lawrence used to be. It had been cut or torn out of the book. Great.
"Hey!" Chris popped his head around the doorway. "You think this might be useful?" He held a trophy up.
"Why would that be useful?" I took the book with me when I walked over to him.
"Because it has Lawrence's name on it?" He told me. "Just thinking."
"I think your thinking is good thinking," I said. It was a basketball trophy, with a tiny gold-plated teen frozen in the posture of shooting the hoop on top of a wooden base. A plaque read 'Andrew Lawrence - 1939". I turned it over and saw writing on the bottom. I couldn't make it out.
"What's this say?" I handed the trophy to Chris, who looked at the underside of the trophy.
"It says," Chris muttered, leaning in to see the faded words, "umm... 'AL forever CB'." He looked up at me. "Aren't those your initials?"
"Yeah, but that's not my writing." I took the trophy back and looked hard at the inscription, taking my glasses off so I could see better. "CB. I wonder who..." There was a noise at the front door, a lock being turned. "Time to go!" I shut off my light and ran to the little staircase at the back, with Chris hot on my heels.
The back door opened noisily and he and I stumbled out the onto the little metal landing. We closed the door just in time to hear a voice yell, "Hey!"
"Now we run," Chris said, smiling like a lunatic. And we did.
We jumped down from the landing, ignoring the stairs. I twisted my ankle a bit, but not bad. I limped behind Chris, who was still carrying the trophy. I held the yearbook tucked under my arm like a football and we skedaddled up the alley as fast as we could go.
I heard the back door to the Depository slam open and a gruff male voice yelled, "Come back here! You! Come back!"
"That must be some pissed off janitor," Chris said.
"Yeah," I agreed. "Turn here."
The alley turned south, and we took it. I heard footsteps behind us, and chanced a glance that way. It was dark enough that I couldn't see anything but shadow. The southern route was short, only one building wide, before it turned back to the left again. I turned that way and ducked behind a tree. I hissed at Chris, who had run on ahead. When he saw where I was, he dove into a bush and crawled on his belly to join me. I drew a small sigil of confusion on the tree where I was hiding, making a shield to keep us pretty invisible to anyone looking our way.
The footsteps ran down the alley past where we hid, but that wasn't all. I felt, rather than saw, a whole bunch of 'Bads, flying behind whoever it was that was chasing us. I flipped on my Sight and saw a small group of the shadowy things hesitate and come toward us.
"We gotta go," I said.
"Cuz of those shadows?" Chris said?
I looked at him, amazed. His yellow light was streaked with bright blue. "You can see them," I asked.
"Sure," he nodded, smiling up at me. "Can't you? Let's get out of here."
He scooted on his knees backwards until he was clear of the trees and bushes. I followed with my achy ankle, being careful not to attract the attention of the 'Bads. The sigil did its work. The 'Bads were sniffing all around, but not at us. By the time they reached the tree, Chris and I were back on Douglas Street and hightailing it back to Christine's house.
I looked back over my shoulder when we turned the corner on Main Street, back East. The 'Bads had bunched up around the tree where I had left the sigil, but they weren't doing much else. It was as if they were smelling it, looking for a sign of where we went.
"We better hurry," I told Chris.
"You're limping," he observed.
"It's just a flesh wound," I told him. "Got it when we jumped. Run!"
The 'Bads had caught our scent and I heard the same gruff male voice say, "Get 'em!"
We ran like the proverbial bats out of hell and made the next two blocks with a speed that Jesse Owens would have found proud. We got to Christine's front yard about half a block ahead of the boiling mass of gray 'Bads and I grabbed Chris' shirt.
"This way," I yelled and pulled him to the front door. The 'Bads were just reaching the front yard when we bounced into the house. I turned and watched the 'Bads bounce against the shield that Christie had built around her house.
"Christie!" I turned to find her, standing in the dinning room, wide-eyed and staring. "How strong is that shield of yours?"
"I don't rightly know, Chester," she said, coming over to us and looking out the door. "It's been standing for thirty and more years. I imagine it will hold for a little longer." Turning to me, she said, "Are they here?"
"Yeah," I told her. "And they're going to be bringing a lot more friends here in a minute." I looked into the dining room. "Did the others bring Lawrence?"
"Yep," Charity said. "He didn't really want to, but we convinced him."
I moved as quickly as my bum ankle would let me and looked at the crowd in the dining room. All of my friends were standing around a figure in a chair. Lawrence was sitting there, bound by a strong cord and there was a medallion of some sort on his forehead.
"What's that?" I asked.
"It's a binding," April told me. "Celtic knot. That necklace I wear around my neck? It's around his head, binding Ammit so he can't do any mischief."
Lawrence was growling and spitting, throwing unintelligible curses at us.
"Shut up, you," Charity said, throwing a kick at him.
"You will all die tonight," Lawrence threw at her.
"Not if I can help it," I said crossing over to him. I looked up at Craig. "Was it much trouble?"
He told me that they had gotten to McCann's at rush hour and had to wait for a seat. The three of them stood waiting, patiently, joking and laughing. After about fifteen minutes, Charity started to complain about the service in a biting tone and one of the waitresses suggested they might want to find somewhere else to eat.
April had asked to speak to the manager, and the waitress had gone to find him when Lawrence showed up.
"I think you had better leave," he suggested in a less than friendly tone.
Craig stood tall and suggested that Lawrence take his suggestion and stick it where the sun doesn't shine. This did not endear the three of them to anyone in the restaurant.
Lawrence then suggested that perhaps he and they should take their discussion outside. This was the lucky break the trio had been looking for. Once outside, Craig and Lawrence debated the advisability of going to a different place, while Charity took up a position behind Lawrence. Craig shoved Lawrence, hard, and Lawrence tripped over Charity, and hit his head on the sidewalk, rendering him dazed for the moment.
The patrons from inside, who had been watching, started to pour out of the door. Craig and the women hustled Lawrence into April's truck and took off, heading in the opposite direction from Christie's house.
"I don't think it fooled them for long," Craig said.
"It didn't," Tim added. "About five minutes before they showed up, Christie started getting very nervous and lighting candles. The sky outside went kind of black and then things got a bit weird for a moment."
"I felt a strong pressure," Sherry said, "and I could see shadows out of the corner of my eyes. It lasted about three minutes and then it all stopped."
"Because they were following the false trail that you three set," I said, indicating Craig, Charity and April. "That must have been pretty close to the time Chris and I were discovered in the old Depository."
The wind was picking up outside to a fierce howling.
"Can you feel them?" Christie was pacing the floor. "All around us, hungry and angry." She looked at me. "If you're going to do something, child, you need to do it soon." She got a panicked look and her face was showing strain. "I don't know how long I can hold them back." She smiled apologetically. "I'm not very strong, you know."
"I think you're doing fine, Grandmother," I said soothingly. More soothingly than I felt, that's for sure.
I pulled out the yearbook and showed it to Lawrence. "Does this look familiar, Lawrence?" He turned his head away but I pulled his chin back so the yearbook was right in front of his eyes. "I'm not talking to Ammit here. I want to talk to Lawrence."
The figure in the chair growled some more. "Lawrence isn't here, goat boy. I put him in a dark place long, long ago." He grew a wicked grin on his face. "You'll have to deal with me and you'll have to deal with my Shadows."
"Lawrence," I continued, "I know you're in there, and I know you can hear me. You don't have to give up. Ammit isn't the king of your house. You are."
"Yeah," Charity said, "Ammit is just a big old wuss."
Lawrence spit at her, and I slapped him. "Play nice."
I straightened up and look at the others. "Look, I think I'm going to have to go inside his head and find Lawrence. Ammit may have buried that personality so deep that we'll never be able to get to him in time."
The howling outside grew stronger, wilder, and a sound like hail started to hit the walls.
I took off my jacket and handed it to Chris. "Oh, by the way, Chris showed up."
"Yeah," April said. "We kinda noticed that."
Which reminded me. "Chris, give me that trophy."
He handed the little statue to me and I showed the writing on the bottom of it to Lawrence. "Who's CB, Lawrence?"
"Christine Baylor," Christine muttered, looking wan and pale.
"Baylor?" I turned to where the old woman stood. "Is that you?"
"No," she said, shaking her head negatively. "That was a different Christine. And that was very long ago."
"Uh huh." I nodded at her, curtly not quite believing her, and turned back to Lawrence. "I'm coming to get you, Lawrence. I know you're in there." I looked at the others and said, "Hopefully this won't take long. If I'm gone more than five minutes, you drag my happy butt out to the garden. That's where the protection is strongest, and I've got to get us all to the windmill." Just then the walls started shaking and a picture fell. "And sooner better than later."
"What about Lawrence?" Tim asked.
"Leave him," I said. "If I can't save him, I can't save him," I said sadly. "But I've got to get rid of Ammit, at the very least."
"I will destroy you all!" The figure tied to the chair started to rock violently.
"Yeah, yeah," I said. "Like I haven't heard that before." I grabbed his head in my hands and looked deep into his eyes. "Now be still. This won't hurt a bit." I focused my Sight on his gray, gray eyes. "Much." I started to fall into those eyes. "I hope."
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I'm so sorry, dearest lil' brother. I've been waiting and hoping for my head to clear. It's all loopy and wobbly, and i want to be able to ready your stuff CLEARLY. So i have held off. And i'm getting hopelessly behind!!
*grumbles to herself loudly*
I am pretty frustrated with this!! But i see you are storming on ahead, and that is good. I'll catch up with you one of these days, i promise!!
(((((( quilty hugs )))))))
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