BEYOND THE LOOKING-GLASS: Book One in the BEYOND Series (4 page)

The landscape around the highway was changing. Fields of colorful poppies and wildflowers giving way to ugly thickets with gnarled and twisted limbs. The peaceful sky above was disappearing behind ominous dark clouds.

At first, Kellen thought the clouds were weather-related. But as ash slowly drifted down around his shoulders, he realized the air was thick with black soot. The yellow bricks were gone. Now they were walking on filthy cobblestones. And there were all kinds of ugly potholes filled with brackish and foul-smelling fluids. Dark shapes of a city loomed in the distance.

“What’s happening?” Aleeta asked.

“I don’t know. But I don’t like it. Keep your eyes open.”

When they entered the strange town, Kellen was stunned by what he saw. Dilapidated old nineteenth-century buildings were jammed together on each side of what appeared to be the main street. The humid air was thick with eye-burning coal smoke from a thousand belching chimney pots.

Horse-drawn omnibuses thundered by, splashing Kellen and Aleeta with stinking sewer water from an open gutter system. And up and down the streets, sweepers were hard at work scooping up their daily pounds of horse droppings.

The two of them stepped along, gingerly trying to avoid as much raw garbage as possible. They passed large crowds of costermongers hawking their bins of freshly-cut flowers, fruits, fish, and baked goods. A few vendors were pushing their goods around in rickety wooden barrows.

Aleeta clapped her hands together. “Oh, Kel. Isn’t this marvelous. It’s old London just the way Dickens described it.”

Kellen wasn’t as enthusiastic as his ex-wife.
Yeah. It certainly is the stink hole he wrote about in all those stories
.

As the street crowd grew thicker, Kellen suddenly felt a sharp bump. Someone had brushed by him and quickly darted off.

He felt his back pocket. His wallet was gone.

A small figure in a dark cap and ragged clothing was running down the street.

“Stop,” he called out. “Stop thief!”

He took off after the pickpocket, dodging around street hawkers and their bins of goods. He rammed his way roughly through a dense mob of beggars, drunks, prostitutes and some gaudily dressed vagabonds. In a minute, he was upon the little thief. He reached out and grabbed the tiny felon by the back of the collar.

The diminutive wallet-snatcher turned to face Kellen. The cap fell off and an ocean of yellow curls spilled out. It was a little girl dressed in an Alpine costume.

Aleeta caught up to them and gasped. “Why it’s Heidi. I’d know her anywhere.”

“Are you sure?” Kellen asked.

“I’m not sure of anything. Except she doesn’t belong in this Dickens town.”

“Please, sir,” Heidi pleaded. “I was only doing what he told me to.”

“Who?” Kellen asked.

The little girl’s eyes widened with fear. And she was visibly trembling. “I’m not supposed to say if I’m caught. Not ever.”

“That’s all right, Heidi,” Aleeta said. “We’ll keep your secret. We’d like to be your friend.”

Heidi stared up with tear-filled eyes. “How do you know my name? Do you know my grandfather?”

“In a way,” Kellen said. “We both heard about him when we were very young.”

“I miss my grandfather. The mountains. And my goats. I am trying very hard to get back home. Mister Fagin says he’ll help me.” Heidi quickly put her pudgy little hand up to her mouth. She obviously realized she’d said far too much.

“What did this Mister Fagin promise?” Kellen asked, as he knelt down in front of the frightened little mountain girl.

Heidi spoke in a whisper. “He says if I become a good pickpocket, like his other children, he’ll take me back to grandfather. He’s keeping count of my money. And it won’t be much longer now.”

A rough crowd of townspeople was gathering about them. It was a surly, dirty-faced mob and Kellen didn’t like their expressions.

A thin young boy pushed through the onlookers to stand beside Heidi. He put his arm around her in a protective way. The youngster was a snub-nosed little kid with an arrogant manner. His clothing was on the bizarre side--- a tattered man’s coat reaching down to his dirt-caked ankles, floppy shoes with no laces, shirtsleeves rolled back on the arms, and a crumpled top hat cocked over to one side.

It couldn’t be anyone else
, Kellen thought.
It’s Jack Hawkins. The Artful Dodger
.

“What’s the trouble here, Guv?” The Dodger asked.

“This girl stole my wallet,” Kellen replied.

“That be a serious charge, Guv. ‘Specially from a stranger the likes of you.”

Dodger twitched and his cocked hat moved back onto the top of his head, just as it was about to fall off. “This little Miss look like a thief to you, Guv?”

“We don’t want any trouble,” Aleeta said to The Dodger. “We just need some help.”

“Clear the way, you riff-raff,” a hoarse voice shouted at the back of the crowd. The crowd parted to allow two men to claw their way through. One of the men was a bearded, grotesque little man in a rumpled frock coat. He kept rubbing his bony hands together as he eyed the scene nervously.

This has to be Fagin
, Kellen thought.

The second man was a scowling hulk dressed in a black velvet frock coat, filthy breeches, gray stockings, and lace-up boots. Like Dodger, the man also wore a battered top hat. He was holding a dangerous-looking pit bull on a leash with one hand and a thick club in the other. As he stared at Kellen and Aleeta, he grabbed hold of a red bandana circling his neck and wiped some spittle off his scraggly beard.

And this
, Kellen surmised,
is Bill Sikes and his pit bull, Bull’s-Eye.

“Here, here,” Sikes barked, “unhand them two tykes.” Bull’s-Eye growled menacingly and showed its front fangs. The animal strained at the leash, but Sikes kept a tight grip on the tether.

Fagin stepped up beside Sikes. He rubbed his hands. “What ye be after in our town, folks?” he asked.

Aleeta spoke up before Kellen could reply.

“We’re after our children,” she said. “We’ve temporarily lost track of them. We hoped someone here might have seen them.”

Fagin pulled at his dirty, matted beard. “Old London Town is a dangerous place for young’uns, Missus. Terrible things oft befall them.”

“I sez they lie,” The Dodger piped up. “They’s spies sent by The Magistrate. Rich folks always lie. And box yer ears, too.”

“Is that so, you two?” Sikes growled in a raspy voice. “We don’t like no spies or bobbies down here. We make ‘em wish they never was born.” Bull’s-Eye began to leap up and bark. The pit bull twisted vigorously in its tight collar, throwing its massive head back and forth, sending streams of spittle hurtling into the air.

Sikes appeared about to unleash the terrifying beast.

Kellen looked at Aleeta’s face. He’d seen that look before. She was a cool and calm person normally. But she had a fearful temper. And when it was released it could be a terrible sight to behold.

“Well, Missus, I’m waiting for yer reply,” Sikes commanded. “Else I can’t be held responsible for what this here dog of mine might do.”

“We’re asking for help, not bullying, you big ape,” Aleeta replied.

Sikes looked as if he were about to let go of his dog’s leash and allow the pit bull to attack. Before Sikes could react, Aleeta quickly pounced forward and grabbed the large club out of the big bully’s grasp.

Sikes, with the townsfolk behind him, surged forward.

Aleeta swung the large club back and forth in a wide arc, like a baseball bat. Every time someone edged forward, she swung the bat at them and they pulled back.

“Back all of you,” Aleeta warned. “Or I’ll bash your ugly heads to a pulp.”

Sikes let go of Bull’s-Eye’s leash.

With a yelp, the huge dog leaped at Aleeta. She suddenly shifted the club to a position in front of her. Aleeta turned the club into a lance. And when the pit bull lunged at her with dripping fangs, she drove the pole directly into its mouth.

Bull’s-Eye gulped and froze, impaled in mid-air on its master’s wicked club. And in the next moment, it fell writhing in pain to the cobblestone street.

Sikes fell to his knees beside his fallen dog. He sobbed bitterly.

Aleeta placed Kellen behind her and held the club up high next to her ear. She waved it about in a small circle as she shoved through the crowd. People backed away, and ducked whenever Aleeta menaced them with her club.

As they moved out of the mob, Aleeta whispered to Kellen.

“When I say GO, run like hell.”

At her signal, Kellen began to run right behind Aleeta. They dashed down the main thoroughfare, and then ducked into a side street. Kellen could hear the angry shouts behind them. The Londoners were right on their tail. Their footsteps sounded like rifle shots as clicked against the cobblestones.

Just as it looked like they were doomed, a small young boy reached out and yanked them into a shadowy doorway. The angry mob rushed on by and soon their shouts sounded far off.

“Thanks,” Kellen gasped, panting. He could make out three small figures in the shadows. “You saved our lives just now.”

Aleeta stared at three boys standing before her. “And who might you be, young gentlemen?”

The boy who had reached out to pull them in stood with cap in hand. He was rail-thin, pale and with a mop of yellow hair.

“My name is Oliver Twist, milady. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance. And this other fellow is my mate, Charley Bates. We were in Fagin’s family of thieves. The other boy is a stranger. He says his name is Hans Brinker and that he doesn’t know how he got here. He’s got a pair of ice skates but there’s no ice anywhere around these parts. Isn’t that peculiar?”

“Very,” Aleeta said, peering at the smiling boy holding skates. He wore wooden shoes on his feet.

“Nice to meet you, Hans,” Aleeta said. “I’ve read a lot about you.”

Hans frowned, obviously puzzled. “You have?”

“Yes. But I haven’t time to tell you all about it now. We’re looking for our children. Have you seen them?” Hans shook his head no.

But Oliver reached out and touched Aleeta’s sleeve gently.

“They were here. They didn’t stay long. Some washerwomen gave them directions to the forest just outside town. They went there a short time ago.”

“Forest?” Kellen asked.

“Yes,” Oliver answered. “They went into Sherwood Forest.”

~*~

It was almost dark when the Yellow Brick Road led them to the edge of Sherwood Forest. They entered cautiously, not knowing what to expect. The two found themselves surrounded by a cathedral of towering trees and thick underbrush.

Kellen suddenly glanced up at tree branches far above him. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“That rustling…way up there in the trees.”

They both peered up at the shadowy limbs above.

There was something…or someone…up there.

And it was staring back at them.

A moment later, a dark figure could be seen swinging from one tree to another. And it was followed by several other shadowy forms. The trees were teeming with fast-moving human life.

“Look,” Aleeta cried out.

“I see him,” Kellen called back. “It’s a man. Way above us.”

“Don’t you recognize him, Kel?” She laughed, almost hysterically. “It’s Tarzan and his ape family. Sherwood Forest is filled with baboons.”

“What in blazes is happening, Allie?”

Aleeta was trembling. “It means my wonderful visualization machine is a bust. I can’t predict who we’ll meet. What might happen next. Or if we’ll ever see our kids alive again.” She began to sob.

Before he could reach out to console Aleeta, an arrow whistled past Kellen’s ear and slammed into the trunk of an oak tree with a loud THWAKK.

The open clearing was alive now with a band of grim-faced, bearded men in Lincoln green tights and caps. They weren’t strangers to Kellen. As a boy, his father had regaled him at bedtime with exciting tales of Robin Hood and his merry band of Saxon outlaws. And here they were…in the flesh… advancing toward him.

The tall leader stood with his legs far apart. He leaned on a very large bow. The man carried a quiver of arrows under one arm.

“What business are ye about in this forest, varlet? And who is this wench by thy side?”

Aleeta stepped forward, hands on hips. Kellen could see she was getting up a head of steam and might blow at any second. He bit his lip. These men wouldn’t be as easy to conquer as old Bull’s-Eye. “I’ll have you know, milord,” she announced, “that I’m no wench to be trifled with. I’ve lost my two children. I’m filthy. And I’m very, very hungry.”

Robin Hood threw his head back and laughed heartily. It was a gesture Kellen had seen dozens of time in storybook illustrations and old motion pictures. Banned media he’d confiscated, categorized, and burned over the years at the Government annex.

But this time the fantasy didn’t seem quaint or charming. Not when these forest thugs were making fun of his ex-wife.

“Okay,” Kellen said, “you fellows have had your fun. Now, please behave like gentlemen, and help us out. We’re looking for two small children. Not dressed like others in this region. A boy back in that Dickens town told us they could’ve entered these woods.”

“It’s forbidden to enter Sherwood Forest without permission from the court of our gracious king. Surely you know that.”

“What about Tarzan?” Aleeta interrupted. “Did your gracious king give him a free pass to this place?”

Robin leaned forward, causing his long bow to bend under his weight.

“Aaah, fair damsel,” Robin answered, “if we could ever catch him, we’d deal with him. Harshly. He is, as you observed, an elusive devil. His time will come.”

“We mean no harm,” Kellen said. “We’re merely desperate to find our children.”

“Little ones can find a forest a perilous place, sir.” Robin answered, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Two riders clad in bright, shining armor came prancing out of the woods. They carried lances and their horses were clad in padded armor. One of the riders pushed up the visor on his helmet and glowered at Aleeta and Kellen.

“And what have we here, Locksley?” the knight inquired.

“It’s none of your affair, Lancelot,” Robin said sharply. “I’ve told you before you aren’t welcome here. Your steeds dump their spoils on the grass and they tear up the land with their hooves.”

Robin’s men moved toward the mounted knights. They didn’t look like any sort of welcoming committee to Kellen. Robin raised a gloved hand to halt his men.

“Methinks you position thyself far too high in thine own estimation,” Lancelot proclaimed. “And one day it shall bring thee misery and woe.”

The second knight pushed up his visor and began to draw his huge broadsword. Lancelot spoke to him in a stern voice. “Put that away, Galahad. Our king would not look kindly to any spilling of Saxon blood in Sherwood this day.”

Prince Galahad looked at the two intruders standing before him. “They could be Norman spies sent here by Sir Mordred, or possibly a witch or warlock in league with that fiendish sorcerer, Merlin.”

“T’is enough foolish conjecturing, lad,” Robin said. “I fear you knights have spent far too many days chasing after mythical Black Knights and lost chalices. Let us all put down our weaponry and partake of some tasty food. This lady here informs me she is fair starving to death. And I don’t think she’ll attack you with a chicken leg if we all sup together.”

Aleeta and Kellen went to the nearby stream and cleaned off the dust of the road and the muck of old London town. The Merry Men provided them with clean, rustic clothing. Kellen was not entirely grateful for his outfit. It made him look like one Robin’s merry men. And the rough cloth made him itch. But at least it didn’t stink of the filth of the old London slum.

Robin Hood was as good as his word about the feasting. His band of outlaws and the two knights of the realm sat with Kellen and Aleeta at a meal fit for a king.

Kellen watched, amused, as Aleeta wolfed down a juicy roasted chicken leg. She sat between Friar Tuck, in his rough monk’s robe and metal helmet, and Little John, who gripped a ham hock in one giant fist and a thick cudgel in the other. Nearby, Will Scarlet, in bright togs and a red cap, enjoyed a hearty drink, while Alan-a-Dale serenaded Aleeta with a soft medieval tune on his lute. All the outlaws Kellen remembered from those amazing tales of his youth.

Later that evening, the two of them sat before a blazing campfire. They huddled close to keep out the night chill. She looked at Kellen, her eyes filled with tears..

“Do you think we’ll find the kids?”

He answered in a strong, reassuring voice. “Sure we will. Don’t worry. We’ll grab some shut-eye and get a fresh start tomorrow. We’re bound to pick up their trail in no time.”

Aleeta moved in a bit closer. “This reminds me of when we camped out that time at Lake Kingston. Just after you got out of prison. Remember?”

“Yeah. Your folks called the police. They were sure I’d kidnapped you.”

“Well, you could hardly blame them. What with all that went on before. The ugly publicity. That ghastly trial all over the Government television. They had to put up with a lot.”

“I know, Allie. And I’m sorry for all that. I thought crusading for the truth would help people. I never imagined I would wind up hurting everyone I love. Can you ever forgive me?”

Aleeta smiled at him. “I did. A long time ago. Now, let’s get some sleep, so we can get an early start in the morning.”

~*~