The Garbage Chronicles (18 page)

After switching off the spotlight, Javik noticed four red eyes looking toward him from the woods, burning in the darkness like hot embers in a firepit.

“We should have rushed him,” Rebo said. From his crouched position with Namaba just inside the woods, he glared across the clearing at the
Amanda Marie.
The ship’s spotlight flashed off. Rebo pushed a small pine tree branch out of his way. It cracked.

“But the thunder stick,” Namaba said, her voice a nervous, shivering whisper. “We could have been killed!”

“A bluff,” Rebo said. “It just made noise.”

“And your yenta tells you that?” Her tone was sarcastic.

“I have no yenta,” he said, irritably. “And neither do you.”

“All Morovian women have yenta,” she said. “And mine tells me he would have killed us. He is very intense.”

“Pshaw!”

“But I sense goodness in him—a potential friend.”

“I don’t know . . . ”

“I’ll tell you something else, Rebo. You’re different here —not the same ruthless gang leader I knew on Morovia. My yenta tells me this, too. You know it to be true.”

There was no response. Rebo shifted on his haunches.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” she prodded.

“Yes,” Rebo said. “I am different, and it confuses me.”

A giraffe-necked light cast the short shadows of Prince Pineapple and Wizzy as they disembarked from the pram at the edge of Sacred Pond. Prince Pineapple kick-shoved the boat out on the water, clutching the scroll under his coat with one hand.

From his perch on the prince’s shoulder, Wizzy said, “The rain has stopped. “Let’s have a look at the scroll.”

As Wizzy glowed white to provide light, Prince Pineapple pulled the scroll out and unfurled it, holding one hand at the bottom edge and the other at the top. This seemed peculiar to the prince; for while he felt the stiff parchment paper between his fingers, he could not see it.

“Wrong side,” Wizzy said, seeing a heavy “X” across the sheet. “Rather a poor job of Torah fakery on Abercrombie’s part,” he muttered.

Prince Pineapple flipped the scroll over, pulling it close so that Wizzy could read it more easily. The paper crackled.

“It’s a map,” Wizzy said. “It says in one corner to look for three-dot trail markers.”

“Three dots,” Prince Pineapple said. “Magical signs. Yes, I have seen such markings.”

“We’re to take Baker Road from Sacred Pond, to Avenida Five. Thence to All Souls Hill and across Dusty Desert.”

“The Badlands,” Prince Pineapple said, his tone reflecting disappointment. “I feared as much.”

“There’s a Bottomless Bog shown here,” Wizzy said. “And a place called Moha. Are you familiar with those?”

“Moha sounds familiar. Can’t quite place it. There’s a shortcut to All Souls Hill. We will pass your ship.” He rerolled the scroll and secured it with the cord. Removing his coat, he placed the scroll and the coat on the ground. “I should recharge now,” he said. “A long journey awaits us.”

Wizzy did not comment on this.
I haven’t actually agreed to remain with the prince,
he thought.
But he does need me to read the scroll, and Captain Tom doesn’t want me around….

Twenty-five minutes later….

Prince Pineapple leaned forward with a newfound sense of purpose as he walked, for now he had the Sacred Scroll of Cork. Wizzy was on his shoulder, brightly lit to show the way. They were crossing through the carriage parking lot of the shopping center, passing dimly lit stores whose windows displayed discarded Earth household gadgets. Prince Pineapple-knew the stores would be bare soon. Lord Abercrombie would demand all gar-bahge for himself. It was inevitable.

Pausing at the corner of the center’s largest building, the prince whispered, “Dim your light. I hear something.”

Wizzy darkened.

Prince Pineapple looked around the corner, then scampered back to a dark doorway. “Corker security patrol,” he whispered.

Two guards walked past, making loud sucking sounds as they worked at their grain alcohol backpack tubes. Had the guards been attentive, they would have seen and apprehended Prince Pineapple. Fortunately, they did not turn their heads.

Five minutes later, Prince Pineapple and Wizzy had reached the safety of a shortcut path through the woods. It was a little-used way without lighting, so Wizzy glowed brightly again, concentrating his light forward.

Many roots and stones were embedded in the ground, and in places the path was difficult to locate because of the lack of traffic. Prince Pineapple took the wrong way once, and it was nearly ten minutes before he realized his mistake. He backtracked, finding the correct path.

“We’re going around Corker Stadium,” the prince said. “Can’t risk going out there. Too many guards.”

Presently they reached a wider path, with trail lights glowing yellow. Wizzy dimmed to conserve his energy.

“We were on this trail yesterday,” Prince Pineapple said. “Your ship is just ahead.”

Wizzy recalled his papa’s instructions concerning remaining with Captain Tom. But Javik had been cruel to him.
He doesn’t want anything to do with me,
Wizzy thought.
Surely Papa will understand.

Prince Pineapple took a fork in the path, stepping onto a wooden bridge. Wizzy heard the cadence of the prince’s feet on wood boards and the squeal of a raccoon.

Returning to his thoughts as they left the bridge, Wizzy wondered if he might have been more pleasant, despite Captain Tom’s attitude. He turned this over in his mind several times. No answer leaped out to salvage him from the dilemma. At times, Prince Pineapple would say something to jar Wizzy’s concentration. And Wizzy tried to think of other things. But each time a nagging question returned:
Should I go back for Captain Tom?”

“Light!” Prince Pineapple said. “Give me light!”

“Huh?” Wizzy said. “Oh.” He glowed brightly.

They had reached the end of the trail, arriving at a wide clearing. The cool gray light of dawn washed across the sky, showing distant treetops on the other side of the clearing.

Wizzy recognized this place. The ship was here somewhere. He slanted his cat’s eye, gazing in all directions. The beam of his light moved as he scanned.

“That way,” Prince Pineapple said, pointing ahead and to the right.

Now this guy’s giving me orders,
Wizzy thought.
First, Papa, then everyone else.

Wizzy was directing the light beam the wrong way, causing Prince Pineapple to trip. “Pay attention!” the prince snapped, stumbling over something.

Wizzy directed his beam ahead of Prince Pineapple. They made their way to the center of the clearing.

Suddenly, Prince Pineapple dropped to a prone position on the ground. Wizzy fell from his shoulder, tumbling in cool, damp grass. “Dim it,” Prince Pineapple said.

Intent on escaping the dampness of the grass, Wizzy did not respond. He found a dry area of dirt on which to sit.

“Dim it, I said!”

“Oh,” Wizzy said, darkening. “I thought you said, ‘Damn it!’”

“Someone’s on your ship,” Prince Pineapple said, pointing across the gray light of the clearing.

Now Wizzy saw it too—the
Amanda Marie
with its cabin lights blazing. And someone standing in the lighted hatchway. “One of the guards you posted?” Wizzy asked.

“I doubt it. They wouldn’t stay all night.”

“A scavenger, then?”

“Nothing of value there yet. The ship is far too new.”

“Maybe it’s Captain Tom!” Wizzy said, surprised at the excitement in his voice.

“Could be,” Prince Pineapple said, rising to his feet. “We’ll give it a wide berth to play it safe.” He skirted the ship now, angling toward a craggy hill across the clearing with Wizzy dark on his shoulder.

Wizzy saw the profiles of mountains against the dawn sky. Deep grays in the sky were giving way to pastel pinks and blues, like an artist mixing colors on his palette. “We’re going up there?” he asked.

“Right. We’ll have to scramble through the woods with no trail for a while. The trailhead’s too close to the ship.

Wizzy was curious about who was on the ship. “But what if it
is
Captain Tom?” he asked.

“And what if it is?” Prince Pineapple said, his tone worried. “Remember how he treated you, Wizzy. He doesn’t want to see you.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

A distant, brilliant flash of orange in the sky caught Wizzy’s attention. A Great Comet swooped down gracefully, then veered up and away. Within seconds it was a far-off speck, no more noticeable than a bright star. “Oh!” Wizzy exclaimed.

“What’s the matter?” Prince Pineapple asked.

“There!” Wizzy said, casting his gaze toward the retreating comet. “It’s Papa Sidney!”

“I don’t see anything.”

“It’s almost out of sight now. But it
was
Papa! I know it!” Wizzy thought for a moment, then: “He was telling me to stay with Captain Tom.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Wizzy lifted off from the prince’s shoulder, flying in a holding pattern there.

Prince Pineapple continued on for several steps, then turned. “Come on, Wizzy. We’ve a long way to go.”

“I have to find Captain Tom;” Wizzy glowed orange. A bright yellow tail flared from his nucleus.

“But the scroll! I can’t read it without you. I can’t even see the damned thing.”

“I’m sorry, but I must do as Papa says.”

Prince Pineapple hung his head dejectedly, sensing there was no way to change the little comet’s mind. Removing his beanie, he gave the helicopter rotor a spin. When he looked up, Wizzy was gone, streaking across the clearing toward the ship.

Wizzy changed course once to look back at Prince Pineapple. The prince was barely visible in the low light, a solitary, shadowy figure standing there. Then the prince replaced his helicopter beanie on his head, taking a few hesitating steps toward the craggy hills. He picked up his pace and began to walk briskly.

He’s going anyway,
Wizzy thought.
The fool!

Wizzy thought he saw Prince Pineapple wave to him. But the visibility was not good, and Wizzy thought it might even have been an obscene gesture.

When Wizzy reached the ship, Javik was standing in the circular hatchway with his hands on his hips. Javik’s legs were spread, and the position of his body gave the impression of a person blocking the entrance. His head moved from side to side in negative fashion. He was not glad to see Wizzy. “What do you want?” Javik asked.

“I came to help.” Wizzy noticed scratches on Javik’s face.

“You can help by staying the hell out of my way!”

Wizzy bristled at the remark. Perching on a large rock near the base of the
Amanda Marie,
Wizzy saw the sky open up with pale blue color as the new day arrived.

“Even if you were worth a damn,” Javik said, “which you definitely are not, there would be nothing for you to do here. The ship has big problems.”

“How bad?”

“I just checked all systems. The ailerons are heavily damaged, with two flaps totally useless. Most of the rocket tubes are plugged. Hell, this thing went through a bad dust storm, then was rolled on the ground and tossed in a hole.”

“Couldn’t we make the parts with the metalworking equipment onboard? We could shape wall and floor pieces into ailerons.”

“I’m surprised you understand that,” Javik said. “We’d need too much time. Corkers will be here soon, looking to take me back.”

“Why don’t we go with Prince Pineapple?” Wizzy asked. He told of the prince’s quest for the Magician’s Chamber occupied by Abercrombie. Javik listened intently, and Wizzy thought he saw his expression brighten for a time. “It’s supposed to be a rough journey,” Wizzy said. “Rougher than a cob, from the looks of the scroll map.”

Javik turned and went in the cabin. Wizzy followed, and watched Javik’s angular form slump into the captain’s chair. Through the windshield beyond Javik, Wizzy saw the tangerine orange ball of a Corkian sun just above the treetops.

Wizzy flew to the dashboard and set down there. “Why don’t we go with the prince?” he asked.

“And what will you do if I don’t?” Javik asked, smiling thinly.

“I’ll stay with you, of course.”

“Because Papa said? Is that why?”

Wizzy’s yellow cat’s eye looked perplexed and angry at the same instant.

“I saw the comet,” Javik said. “It passed overhead just before you arrived.” The cabin grew quiet for nearly a minute. Then Javik kicked the base of the instrument panel. “Damn this ship!” he said.

“Remember your mission,” Wizzy said. “Find anything unusual and report back. Wouldn’t that be something if you could learn more about the arch-criminal, Abercrombie?”

“I know enough about this friggin’ planet! All I want now is a couple of pleasure dome maidens, a table full of food, and at least three days of uninterrupted sleep.”

“But Abercrombie is nuts. Prince Pineapple says so, anyway. Abercrombie must hate Earth because of what Uncle Rosy did to him. What if he tries to break this planet out of orbit?”

“And send it toward Earth?”

“Right.”

“Too farfetched. It’ll never happen.” Javik kicked the instrument panel base again.

“Maybe not. But you can’t stay here.”

“You’re right about that, Wizzy. And I’m not going back to those games.”

“Then you’ll go with Prince Pineapple?”

“These are not problems,’” Javik muttered, recalling a schoolboy mantra. “‘They are opportunities.’”

“What?”

“Nothing. Yeah. I’ll go.” With a rush of energy, Javik lunged to his feet. Locating the survival pack he had filled, he glanced around the cabin for anything he might have missed.

“Do you have a tent in there?” Wizzy asked, recalling the dangers of water for him.

“You think I’m stupid or somethin’?” Javik barked. He unsnapped a gortex bag from the wall and stuffed the bag in his pack. “Stay outta my way as much as possible. You got that, Wizzy?”

Wizzy burned orange with anger, becoming so hot that Javik saw smoke under him on the plastic dashboard. Wizzy smelled the burning plastic and cooled down. Had Wizzy been human, he might have bitten his lip at that moment. For he did not say anything in response.