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Chapter
12

No Way Home

The bat-like Peebles take turns asking Allan questions: Where are you from? How is Asantia? Why don’t your legs work? How do you get around in a chair with wheels? Do you know the famous Adam Boldary? The process is orderly though strange because the Peebles hang from the ceiling. Their heads are four feet or more above Allan’s, so they have to look down to him while speaking.

Allan has to look up. He answers them easily and, for the first dozen questions, enjoys himself. Since there’s no way to address everyone at the same time in the living room-sized alcove, Allan begins to hear the same questions. He slumps and rattles off the same answers for a while longer. Talking has never been so exhausting. He answers ‘why he can’t use his legs’ for the hundredth time before he sees the end of the line.

Finally, the last Peeble, a short one, yells its question from above. “How are the caves on your planet?”

“Small and muddy, but I think you would like them,” Allan answers.

The crowd disperses in mumbling tides. Though the cavern is huge and lit by dozens of glowing crystals, claustrophobic tightness squeezes Allan’s chest. He wants to see the sky, the light, and breathe fresh air.

The two Peebles that have hung on either side of Allan the entire time do not have weapons and have been giving the orders. They must be the leaders, maybe the King and Queen. They wear different jewelry too; brighter, more colorful jewels surround intricate skulls on skintight chains around their necks, wrists, and upper arms. Allan notices the Peebles have small wing protrusions on their elbows. They are highly evolved for controlled flight.

The queen smiles widely at Allan. Her features are soft, though her bone structure still protrudes like the other Peebles’. “So now that you’ve braved the inquisitive ones, you must answer me one question.”

“Sure.”

“What will you do now?”

Allan thought for a moment. “I’d love to stay for a while, and maybe I’ll return some day, but I’ve really got to go. I’m trying to get to Lan Darr. I’ve got to get to Asantia, and it’s rather important. Actually, I was hoping you could help me get there?”

“Oh, you cannot get to Lan Darr this time of year. You’ll have to wait for next season. In four turns of the moon the flowers will bloom. Then you can go there.”

Allan massages his neck; it’s sore from looking up. “How long is that?”

“Our moon goes around our planet once every forty sun days.”

“And how long is a sun day?” His eyes widen, and he’s not sure he’s going to like the answer.

The Queen Peeble stretches out her palms face up. “As long as it takes for the sun to come up and go down.”

“Right,” Allan chuckles. “Clocks are as common as flies on trash where I come from, but I don’t have one. It’s strange to think about how time is different on other planets.” Allan would have liked to stay on Earth time.
Have I been here six hours? Or eight?

He pauses to think. “I have to go home. I’ve got some flowers left. That should be enough. Then I’ll keep searching Earth to find more Hubbus, ones that will take me to Lan Darr.” He remembers seeing the Hubbu one year ago at the start of his adventure. It was a blue one, not purple. He should have remembered that.

Allan takes a deep breath. He won’t mind going home at all. Though he’s enjoying the hospitality and the attention, he can’t stay here. He wants to see Asantia and Mizzi.

The King and Queen laugh and stare at each other. Finally, the King says, “You cannot go home with purple Hubbu. It would only bring you back to Peebland.”

Allan’s jaw falls open.

“Oh, you did not know that. You are worried now,” the Queen says with concern.

Allan looks down for a moment. The glowing energy crystal in his hands pulsates lightly. It’s quite a beautiful sight. “I guess I’ll be staying with you guys for a while.” He says, resigning himself to his adventure, for better or worse.

The King slips the last morsel of food off his skewer, which looks like a fat slug, and slurps it up. With his mouth full he says, “Well, there is a way to Lan Darr. You can go to Katonaay by way of flower. They have Lan Darr blooms this time of year.”

The Queen scoffs. “I do not consider that a good way to go.”

Allan turns to the King. “Katonaay, huh? Do you have Katonaay flowers with you here?”

The King’s foggy-white eyes disappear behind his eyelids for a moment while he shakes his head. “No. We cannot keep those flowers in the cave. It would be awful. A breeze would blow some pollen into your bed chamber, and you’d wake up swimming on Bileen.” His laugh sounds like a leaky tire.

“Or in the mouth of a Yiz!” the Queen adds. “That would be a rude wakening! They have such a hot breath it would peel your skin off.”

Allan shudders. “So, what’s wrong with Katonaay?” He prepares himself for more bad news.

The Queen looks down at him, her little foggy-white eyes strangely haunting. “You could get lost in Katonaay. Many have never returned.”

Allan’s mouth becomes dry. “Is it the only way to Lan Darr this time of year?”

From the ceiling, the King opens his wing and pats Allan on the shoulder with a massive hand. It’s a painful but friendly gesture. “You’ll be fine. Get to Lan Darr as fast as you can. Don’t get distracted by all the prettiness.”

“You will ride a Wikan-Wak to the North Fields. You will find the flowers you need,” the Queen says as the two unfold their huge black leathery wings and swoop away.

Allan’s hair flutters, and the breeze feels good on his skin. He’s alone in the chamber and notices many of the lights that filled the cavern are gone. Peebles must love the darkness. Maybe the light hurts their eyes. Allan rolls to the edge of the alcove. The vast cavern is smaller without the lights. Puffs of air come and go, and the sound of flapping wings is barely audible. As his eyes adjust to the ever-darkening space, he is able to make out the movement. It’s Peebles, flying to and from other holes and alcoves, doing who-knows-what. It’s a city down here, after all; there must be lots of other sites and places to explore.

His clothes have completely dried since his fall into the water, but a chill creeps into his body and he folds his arms around him. He has another shirt in his bag and mentally pats himself on the back at his preparedness. A camera would be nice. He rolls his eyes and wants to smack himself across the face. He hadn’t thought of everything. How is he going to prove this place exists other than with the stones he’s collected? He would love to bring Asantia home. Maybe tour around in her new airship, if she has a new one. She might not. Her old one was so large and carefully crafted. When it crashed and burned, it tore the side of one of the buildings in Dantia and made a spectacular mess. She’d built it herself, too. It couldn’t have been easy. If she hasn’t built a new one, Allan decides to help her in any way he can. It was his fault Killian Crow’s men shot it down, after all. Still, when he goes home, he’ll need some kind of proof.

A strange thought crosses Allan’s mind. He wonders if he should even go home at all.
I could live here until Lan Darr flowers bloom. Maybe there will be other colors that bloom also. There could be countless worlds that speak English and would be as welcoming as this place is. Asantia and I can find a nice world to live on and have adventure after adventure. Who needs Laura or Rubic anyway? Who even needs school?

The vagueness about Katonaay worries Allan, but the King said not to get distracted by the prettiness. How bad could that be? Either way, Katonaay is his destiny now.

Allan waits, but no one comes. Again, he wishes he had a watch. It would be something to do, checking the time, other than sitting in the dark and staring at Peeble traffic.

If only Allan’s mother or father could see him. Without prompting or conscious intention, Allan’s mind digs up a powerful memory. He was at Disneyland, age ten. It was truly a magical place. A place of peace and imagination and love. His parents let him do anything he wanted and buy anything he desired. He was a king there; similar to how he was being treated here, at Peebland.

His favorite ride was Space Mountain. It reminded him of this dark cave, though at the time he was sitting next to his parents, holding their hands, bracing against the speed. Allan looks to the left and imagines his parents there. They smile at him with proud expressions. Would they be proud that Allan had found the Hubbu and traveled across space and time? Surely, they would because Allan is following his dream, no matter how difficult it was. Since his first adventure in Lan Darr, he’s braver than he thought he could be. The vision doesn’t last long. His parents vanish and standing there is Rubic, tall and tense, peering to the dark cave. He looks around and can’t see Allan. Worry accentuates his brow and his lips are pursed. Allan wishes he could call home and reassure Rubic that he’s just fine and not to worry.

A huge Peeble, larger than most, swoops from the darkness and spins to land on the top edge of the alcove, holding ropes. The King lands next to it. “Allan Westerfield, we have your ride. I see that you cannot roll up the steps so easily, so we will carry you.”

Allan ties the rope ends to each armrest. “I’m ready.” He is eager to be in the fresh air again.

The large Peeble takes the rope in its large feet and then beats its wings, rising skillfully into the dark. Allan jerks into the air. He swings in the dark, wants to scream out, to release the tension in his grip, but doesn’t. He rises slowly like he’s in the basket of a hot air balloon. The stairs and bridge pass underneath as Allan rises. He swings in a huge circle as he rises up and up. A dot of light at the top of the cavern gets bigger and bigger.

The King collides with Allan’s wheelchair. Allan’s grip tightens, afraid the ropes will give out. “I must try to steady you!” the King yells as he flaps his great wings. He succeeds in stopping the swinging just in time. The large Peeble flaps its wings hard then folds them for a moment as it passes through the hole. Allan rises into the gray daylight.

The Peeble lowers Allan to the ground. It’s gasping for breath. Carrying Allan must be physically challenging.

It regains its straight posture and points a wing toward a hut a hundred yards away. “Do you need assistance getting to hut?” the Peeble asks.

“No, thank you. I appreciate the help getting out of the cave in the first place. I’m good.” Allan can feel the air on his skin and the light, too. 

The large Peeble nods and flies back into the cave.

The King lands upright next to Allan. Allan feels disoriented seeing the Peeble standing normally. It hunches like an old man, clearly not comfortable upright.

The King leans down. “You will go to the Keeper.” The King points to the hut. “Get a Wikan-Wak and ride to the Green Gorge in the North Fields. It is not a short ride or a long ride. Good-bye, friend of Asantia’s.” The King doesn’t wait for pleasantries, but leaps, soars, and dives into the cavern hole.

“See ya ’round,” Allan mutters. He tries to roll his chair, but the ground is sandy. He presses a button, and the electric motor moves him over the dune-like hill.

Allan gets to the hut without trouble. The hut is made of glassy, round, black stones that are mortared together like bricks. The door is made of thick fabric, and the windows are made of clear crystals glued together, which, because of the uneven and unrefined crystals, are impossible to see through.

Behind the hut, a crooked fence pens in a dozen furry creatures, twice as large as Earth horses, but similarly shaped.

Allan rolls up to the fabric-covered doorway. He wonders how best to knock when the fabric parts and out steps a fat man no taller than Allan. The man has blue eyes, leathery skin, and long dreadlocked hair. He wears white clothing crudely sewn together with black stitches. He grasps a thick brown mug in his hands. “Groovy. I heard another Boldarian has come calling.” He flips a long knotted strand of hair from his face and sips his mug. “Come, come. Been a while since I’ve been visited by a biped.” The man holds the curtain open while Allan rolls inside.

The hut is clean but not tidy. Bookshelves line the walls and overflow with books and papers.

“Hi, I’m Allan Westerfield.” Allan holds out his hand, but the man doesn’t shake it.

“I know that. News of your arrival has them chatting about you in the next star system.” He hands Allan a wet towel with a substance on it. “Clean your face and hands, if you don’t mind. You’ve got Earth germs that I don’t want pestering me.”

Allan wipes his hands and face with the towel. It is wet and has a pungent odor. The wetness froths up, but evaporates like rubbing alcohol. “Is it that odd to be visited by a human?” Allan hands the towel back and looks around. The next room has a table covered with more books and papers. Under the table is a large turtle, with dull spikes on its shell, chomping down on some kind of yellow leaf.

“Of course it is. Hubbus don’t flower on Earth very often. It has to be a cold year and the acidity of the soil very low. I’m surprised there are still dormant seeds, what with all the humans mucking things up there.

“Oh, where’s my manners. You want some tea? I’d offer you water, but water around here tastes like cow dung. Tea is much better. They have the most amazing biota on this planet. Though most of it grows around the cave shafts, there are also a handful of valleys filled with the good stuff.” The man steps into the kitchen and returns with a similar brown mug. “I brewed extra.”