Whistlestop (3 page)

“
This isn’t possible,”
Jerry said. “This was all childhood games I used to play when I was
lonely. We’re dreaming all of this.”

“
That is likely true, but
this dream yearns only for his dearest friend to speak his name,
and then I shall leave you two to decide how you will deal with
this. Do you remember?”

Tears streamed down Jerry’s cheeks as
his old memories flooded back into his mind. He remembered the day
his grandfather was murdered. Almost immediately thereafter, his
father took his family and moved to San Diego, where they lived
now. For several years, Jerry had no friends, and his family tried
to lie low, although Jerry never understood why. His imaginary
friend was all he had. He spent his life knowing his memories were
lies he told himself to avoid his fear of being alone. One day, his
father told him the danger had passed, and he was allowed to return
to school and meet new friends. As time went by, he lost the need
for his secret friend, and grew up. But now, something had changed
and all those memories were as fresh as the day his grandfather
died right in front of him. “Your name is Jeremiah Beetleweed
Mosscatcher of Marblehead, Whistlestop.”

The voice was laughing and humming a
little tune. Jeremy started humming along, but Jerry was not
pleased with the situation. After a moment, Jeremiah said, “What is
wrong, Master Jerry? Are you not pleased that I have returned?”
Rather than respond, Jerry climbed out of the car and sat on the
curb, holding his head in his hands.

Jeremy sat next to his father and put
a hand on his knee. “What’s wrong, Daddy? Why aren’t you happy that
Jeremiah is back? You said he used to be your friend.”

Jerry sighed heavily and replied, “I
know it’s hard for you to understand, but having an imaginary
friend is okay for children, but as an adult, I should be over that
phase of my life. Does that make any sense?”

“
Dad, Jeremiah is not
imaginary; he is as real as you and me.” Jerry looked up and stared
at his son. “You remember the mess in my room yesterday? I didn’t
do it, it was Jeremiah. Imaginary people don’t move stuff
around.”

“
Fred did say that he heard
a lot of noises coming from the house yesterday after you guys left
for the bus stop. You really think that he did it?”

“
Jeremiah likes to get
attention, and sometimes he likes getting me in
trouble.”

“
Maybe I should just ask
him.”

“
Sorry, Dad, but when you
got out of the car, he told me he would not be around for a few
days. He said you needed to decide what you want to do.”

“
What I want to
do?”

“
He said the memories would
come back to you. He wants you to remember the tales of Winterpast
that he told you, and especially he wants you to remember about
your granddad.”

The image of his grandfather lying on
the floor of their home in a pool of his own blood burned into his
mind. The events of that evening were still a blur of flashing
lights, terrible screams and the wicked blade that sliced through
Mort Winslow, almost cleaving him in two. Jerry could not recall
the attacker’s face, but there seemed to be several of them,
cackling in joy at the death of the old man. In an instant they
were gone, leaving only Jerry and his father to deal with their
grief. Tears streamed down Jerry’s cheeks at that horrible sight,
now replayed more than twenty years later. “I wish you could have
known Grandpa Mort, Jeremy. He was a special man.”

“
Jeremiah called him by
another name, Dad.”

“
What was that?”

“
He called him Mordecai
Davis Iron-heart of Winslow.”

Jerry remembered that name now as
well. Where were those magical memories for all of these years, he
wondered. Why were they coming back now, and why through his son?
“Jeremy, let’s keep this story between us for now, okay? I don’t
think your mom and sister are ready for this yet.”

“
I know. They’ll think
we’re crazy!”

Jerry chuckled and stood up, but did
not reply. The thought of them both being insane was too likely
true to be joked about.

Jerry Winslow could not sleep yet
again. Lynn and the children had gone to bed upstairs hours ago.
Jerry sat on the couch, nursing his second glass of whisky over
ice. The odd encounter with Brad’s softball team, followed by a
reunion with his old imaginary childhood friend was more than his
mind could handle. He spent the afternoon trying to remember the
time he spent with Jeremiah, but all he could muster were bits and
pieces, instantaneous flashes of memory and nothing that made
sense. Then he had decided to put those childhood memories behind
him and focus on reality. His grandfather’s murder had stained his
entire life. His father’s desire to avoid as much of the world as
possible forced young Jerry to make up his own reality, and the
place called Winterpast. He was almost certain he had made it up,
but could those tales have been told to him by Jeremiah? It had
been so long ago, and why was his imagination bringing him back
now? “No!” he exclaimed. “I’m not going to be a child anymore.
Those were just make-believe.” He drained his glass and set it on
the table, grabbed the remote control and turned on the television.
The final part of one of his favorite movies was on, so he slouched
down into his seat and began to watch. His eyelids became heavy and
he was fighting to stay awake. Soon, he did not know whether he was
still watching or dreaming he was watching it.

After the closing credits, an
announcer said, “Stay tuned for our next feature, Tales of
Winterpast.” After the title screen, the scene changed to an aerial
view of a very long and broad valley filled with a dense forest,
bordered by tall snowcapped mountains on one side and rolling hills
on the other. In the middle of the forest was a large medieval city
built from lumber and stone. On the outskirts of the city, most of
the buildings were built in the tree branches, harkening back to
earlier times. At the city center was a large castle. Hundreds of
colorful flags flapped in the breeze above the many spires inside
the protective walls. The narrator spoke, “The city and valley of
Thrace are the dominion of the trehbor, absolute ruler of the
planet Winterpast, one of the few remaining places not absorbed
into the Empire of Axis. It is said that only the power of the
Temple of Light has protected the freedom of its citizenry.
Winterpast had a remarkable history back in the time of the Knights
of Winterpast, who kept the universe safe by stopping the demon
hordes and their seed. Now, the few remaining knights are only able
to protect this one spot of hope in a million realities of death
and despair.”

The camera angle shot upward and over
the mountains and began to cross an impossibly bleak and
inhospitable desert. The image settled on the remnants of a small
village by a dry riverbed. The ruins were charred by fire, and
dozens of skeletons, bleached white by years of relentless sunlight
stood witness to a past tragedy. The narration continued, “Here in
the remains of the village named Winslow, the last of the great
Knights of Winterpast either died or exiled themselves to other
realities, hoping to rebuild and return. Most were hunted down and
slaughtered, although no one can know if any still survive. The
last recorded event was when Moab Iron-heart sacrificed himself so
that his brother Mordechai and his son could escape. The Empire
claims that they were found in the Empty Realm and killed. If that
is true, there is no hope of humanity now.”

Jerry woke to a loud voice on the
television selling cookware. He pressed the off button on the
remote and set it on the table. He was lying on the couch, so he
swung his legs off and onto the floor where his feet felt someone.
His son was sleeping on the floor. He picked the boy up and headed
upstairs. Jerry put Jeremy into his bed and tucked him in, and then
went to his own bed and climbed under the covers. Soon, he was out
like a light.

The smell of frying bacon coaxed Jerry
out of bed. He hurried downstairs to find Lynn standing at the
cooktop and the children sitting at the table, sharing the Sunday
comics. He kissed his wife on the cheek, pulled a mug from the
cupboard and filled it with coffee, sweetener and half-and-half,
and then sat at the table. “Did you sleep well, honey?”

“
I did until you came to
bed in the middle of the night.”

“
I’m sorry about that. I
fell asleep watching some movie.”

“
What was it?”

He chuckled and said, “Frankly, I
don’t remember.”

“
It was Tales of
Winterpast, Dad,” Jeremy said. The memory started to come back and
Jerry’s mouth fell open and he stared blankly at his
son.

“
Yeah, he’s right, Dad,”
Lilian answered. “I tried to watch too, but it was too boring. No
action at all. It was like a travel show or something. After a
couple of minutes, I just went to bed.”

Lynn came to the table and set a plate
of bacon on the Lazy Susan and a plate with two eggs and hash
browns in front of her husband. “I don’t like it when you two kids
stay up past your bedtime.” She turned to Jerry, “Why didn’t you
send them to bed?”

“
Dad was sleeping already,
Mom,” Jeremy replied and his sister nodded.

Lynn kissed Jerry on the cheek and
said, “No more late nights for you either, Jerry,” causing the
children to giggle.

Jerry pushed the memory out of his
mind and chewed on a piece of bacon. He knew these had to be
coincidences. There must be a place called Winterpast somewhere on
Earth. The name sounded like it could be a Santa’s Village
somewhere.

“
Daddy,” Jeremy began, “was
Grandpa really born on another planet?”

The room was instantly quiet, and
Jerry could sense everyone looking at him, waiting for what he
would say. After a minute of thinking, he replied, “I don’t think
that’s possible, Jeremy. No one has ever even been to another
planet.”

“
But Dad, the movie said he
was born on Winterpast.”

“
Jeremy, I’m sorry, but
that was just a movie. There must have been characters with similar
names, that’s all.”

Lynn smiled and nodded at him. Lilian
said, “You are such a dummy, Jeremy, thinking that Granddad is an
alien or something.”

“
Don’t call your brother
names!” Lynn exclaimed.

“
Sorry, Mommy,” Lilian
said, but her eyes did not agree. She stuck her tongue out at her
brother, who replied in kind.

“
Breakfast is amazing,
honey, but I need to make a quick call,” Jerry noted. “I’ll be
right back.” He hurried out of the room, pulling out his cell
phone, and heading out the front door. He sat on the front step and
pressed a button.

“
Hi, Son,” his father said.
“What’s going on? Is everyone okay?”

“
Lynn and the kids are
great, Dad, but I’m not so sure about me.”

“
What’s wrong, Son? Is it
work?”

“
No,” he said weakly, but
then his mind rushed back to the encounter with Brad and his
softball team. “No, it isn’t work, but is it okay if I ask you an
odd question? I don’t want you to think I’m crazy
though.”

“
I would never think that,
Jerry. You’re my boy and I love you. Please ask away?”

“
Where were you
born?”

His father laughed and then replied,
“Winslow, Arizona, of course. But you knew that already, didn’t
you? What’s this all about?”

“
So, you definitely were
not born in the village of Winslow on the planet Winterpast,
right?”

“
Shush! Never say that word
on the phone! Jesus Christ, you have no idea how dangerous this is.
Where did you get such an idea?”

“
Dad, do you remember when
we first moved to San Diego, after Granddad was killed?”

“
How could I ever forget
that day?”

“
I don’t know if you
remember, but when I couldn’t go out or to school, I invented an
imaginary friend.”

“
Oh my God, no, this can’t
be happening again.”

“
What do you mean, Dad? Do
you remember Jer. . .?”

“
Shush! For Christ’s sake,
don’t say that name out loud or we’re all dead!” His father was
breathing heavily. “Where are you, Son?”

“
At home, sitting on the
front stoop.”

“
Is there anyone else
around you can see?”

“
No, just me, no wait, I
can see Fred Tompkins looking out the window at me.”

“
Oh, he’s okay. He’s just
an old nosy bastard. Who have you told about this?”

“
Nobody but you, Dad, but
there is something you need to know. That imaginary friend has been
talking to your grandson.”

“
I can’t believe I was
stupid enough to think this would ever be over, Son. Is it okay if
Angie and I come over for dinner? I need to talk to you and my
grandson in private.”

“
I’ll check with Lynn, but
I’m sure it’ll be okay. Just bring a bottle of wine.”

“
I’ll bring two. I think
we’ll need them. We’ll see you all later and please keep all of
this to yourself, and ask your son to keep mum too,
okay?”