Dormia (4 page)

According to legend, the plant can only be hatched by a Dormian outside the realm of Dormia. This event almost always coincides with the death of a Founding Tree in one of the eleven mythical cities of Dormia. During this precarious transition period, known as Dormian Autumn, the bloom must quickly be delivered to the city whose Founding Tree is dying, If this task is not accomplished in time, both the Dormiam bloom and the Dormian
city in question will wither and die. Or so the legend goes.

Pappy looked up at Hill. "You haven't convinced me!" he declared irritably. "Some palm reader sells you this book and you believe it? Hah! This is all very curious, isn't it? You've been out of the picture for the last twenty years and then, as soon as Alfonso grows a valuable plant and it shows up in the pages of a magazine, you come to Minnesota with this farfetched tale and a book of made-up plants. It's like those folks who win the lottery and suddenly dozens of distant cousins start coming out of the woodwork. And the kicker is: we don't even know who you really are! I don't mean to be rude, sir, but I have a grandson to protect."

Hill let out a heavy sigh, but said nothing.

"Maybe his story is true," said Alfonso nervously. "I mean ... Uncle Hill, if that's who he really is, does seem kind of familiar in a weird way. And, if you think about it, Dad said he was born in the Ural Mountains and the only thing he brought with him was his maraca. That means the seeds inside the maraca—the ones that I used to grow the plant—also come from the Urals. It all does kind of fit together. But—"

"But what?" interjected Hill.

"Well," said Alfonso sheepishly, "Pappy has a good point. It's tempting to believe your story, Uncle Hill. I mean, it might be true. But how can we be certain that you are who you say you are?"

"The truth is," added Judy, "you really don't resemble Leif. I mean, judging just by appearances, it doesn't look like you two were brothers."

Alfonso studied Hill closely. He looked old—more like a grandfather than an uncle. If he were truly Leif's brother, that would make him roughly fifty years old. Of course, some people aged more rapidly than others, but even if that were the case, Hill's story had some holes in it.

Hill smiled awkwardly, shifted his weight in his seat, and then said, "I realize it doesn't look good—me showing up after all these years with this crazy tale—but I'm afraid you'll just have to trust me. I want to help you protect the plant."

At that moment, Alfonso thought back to his encounter with Kiril in the Forest of the Obitteroos. He recalled Kiril's warning that in the near future someone with uncertain motives would come knocking on his door asking for the plant. And now here was Hill. It all gave Alfonso an uneasy feeling.

"Well," Judy said to Pappy, "you have to admit, the drawing of the Dormian bloom in Hill's book looks exactly like the plant that's sitting in our greenhouse right now."

"The greenhouse!" gasped Alfonso. He had forgotten completely about the greenhouse and the large wooden box that was making the strange thumping noise.

"What about the greenhouse?" Pappy asked irritably.

"There's a box in the greenhouse addressed to me with something strange in it."

"Oh yes," replied Pappy. "It had plants from some foreign shipping company. You know, you should ask your mother and me before ordering such foolish-looking plants from overseas."

"But I didn't order it," said Alfonso. "And whatever is in that box isn't a plant—it was thrashing about like a wild animal."

"No, it was a plant," said Pappy. "Saw it with my own eyes."

Hill sat up straight. "Where was the box from?" he asked.

"Can't remember exactly—some foreign port," said Pappy. "In any case, it was a heck of an odd-looking plant—kind of looked like a turtle."

Hill stared hard at Pappy. "Was it about four feet in height, with a sturdy stem, and a large bud with a hard covering that looks like a shell?" asked Hill.

"Why that's exactly right," replied Pappy. "How'd you guess? Did you send it?"

"Absolutely not," said Hill as he grabbed
McBridge's Book of Mythical Plants
and began flipping pages frantically. He stopped at an entry titled "Dragoonya plant of war." The entry included a drawing of a plant that looked like a cross between a Venus flytrap and a giant snapping turtle. Alfonso read the following entry aloud:

Dragoonya plant of war:

A fierce snapping plant with actual teeth teeth and a nimble root system that helps it move with surprising speed. Supposedly it was used in battle by the nomadio Dragoonya of Central Asia. Handle with extreme care. In fact, best if avoided altogether.

Renowned for their seeming ability to predict the future, the Dragoonya are a fierce and cruel...

"Holy smokes," interrupted Pappy Eubanks as he pointed to the drawing. "That's the plant. I'm certain of it."

"And it's in the same greenhouse as your Dormian bloom?" asked Hill.

"Yes," said Pappy. "In fact, there were at least three in the box. Maybe more."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Hill as he snatched up his bomber jacket and goggles. "Quickly—to the greenhouse. Those Dragoonya plants will destroy the bloom!"

T
HEY RAN TOWARD
the greenhouse, with Pappy and Alfonso in the lead. They scrambled through the snow and then stopped abruptly at the greenhouse door. The building was dark and completely silent. "Not a word," whispered Hill as he reached into his leather bomber jacket and pulled out his Colt .45 revolver. "We have to get the Dormian bloom."

"I can show you where it is," said Alfonso.

"Good," said Hill. "Lead the way."

Inside the greenhouse, the many plants and rows of tables were illuminated in a milky glow from the light of the moon, which was now shining brightly overhead. Cautiously, the foursome made their way down the center aisle of the greenhouse until they came to the large table where Pappy kept most
of his orchids. The Dormian bloom was sitting right where Alfonso had left it. Alfonso quickly scooped it up and nodded to Hill. Just then, however, they heard the sound of feet scampering. Or at least it sounded like feet. Something low to the ground was moving very quickly and headed directly for them. Dark shapes surrounded them. Pappy let out a scream and in the moonlight Alfonso saw a gnarled, slimy green bud—bigger than the head of a horse—with a set of massive jaws and sharp yellowish teeth clamped tightly around Pappy's leg. Moments later, they heard a crunch.

Pappy screamed again. "M-MY LEG!"

"Stand back!" shouted Hill. "Give me some room!"

Alfonso and Judy stumbled backwards. Hill set his gun down on the table, picked up a nearby shovel, raised it over his head, and brought it down fiercely on the head of the plant. Pappy let out another scream. The plant released its grip. In one swift, powerful movement Hill scooped up Pappy Eubanks like a child and flung him over his shoulder. Pappy had turned white. Just above his ankle, his leg was obviously broken. The ankle and foot dangled loosely, as if only the skin was holding it to the rest of his leg.

"Hill! Behind you!" screamed Judy.

"My revolver," barked Hill. "Grab my revolver!"

Alfonso grabbed the heavy gun and tossed it to his uncle. Hill turned, raised his pistol, and aimed it at two more charging Dragoonya plants of war.

Pow! Pow! Pow!

Hill fired three shots. The noise was deafening. They all heard the bullets ricochet off the concrete floor and break through glass. The plants were momentarily stunned, but recovered quickly and resumed their charge. Hill fired two more shots and looked at Judy and Alfonso.

"Run for your lives!" he yelled.

All three of them scrambled across the greenhouse and made for the door.

"Grab my Gobi desert orchid!" moaned Pappy. "I-it's worth a fortune."

Judy nodded, snagged a large purple and green orchid off a nearby shelf, and then continued running with the others. Judy carried the orchid, Alfonso carried the bloom, and Hill carried Pappy. They pushed through the door of the greenhouse, slammed it shut behind them, and rushed into the snowy yard.

"There are five of them," groaned Pappy, who was the only one facing backwards. He moaned again and then slumped loosely against Hill. He had passed out from the pain.

They could hear the plants pounding against the inside of the greenhouse door. Clearly, the door was about to break. Hill surveyed the snow-covered landscape.

"Is that a plane over there?" he asked, pointing down toward the edge of Lake Witekkon. Alfonso nodded. Several hundred feet away, near the ice-covered surface of the lake, sat a rusting seaplane. The long-range plane, which had been used in the South Pacific during World War II, belonged to the Perplexons' neighbor, Martin Edlund.

"It belongs to Old Man Edlund—he bought it at some auction," said Judy. "He claims it can fly, but I've never seen it off the ground."

"We'll have to take that chance," Hill shouted. He started running across the field toward the plane. The others followed him. Seconds later, the greenhouse door burst open. Alfonso
glanced backwards and saw the Dragoonya plants of war moving effortlessly over the snow.

Hill made it to the seaplane first. He cranked open the main cargo door and pushed Pappy in. He then settled into the cockpit and, to his great relief, saw the fuel indicator pointing toward the word
full.
Hill hit the starter button and after a few seconds of grinding, the plane's dual-propeller engines roared to life. Alfonso and Judy arrived and climbed inside.

"Close the door!" yelled Hill.

"Already done," yelled Judy.

"Good!" said Hill. "Judy, grab that large wrench over there and hit me over the head with it."

"What?"

"Hit me over the head with that wrench—you need to knock me out. I really shouldn't take off in this plane in these conditions, if I'm awake, and I'm not feeling sleepy after that coffee."

"I can't do that!" said Judy.

"I'll do it," said Alfonso sheepishly.

"Good lad," said Hill. "Give me a good whack, but not too hard, just enough to make me see stars. I need to be fast asleep to pull off a stunt like this!"

Alfonso picked up the wrench that was sitting on the floor of the plane, raised it as high as he could in the cramped cabin, and brought it down on his uncle's head. It hit his skull with a dull thud. Hill immediately went slack and his head slumped off to the side. He lay motionless in the pilot's seat.

"Oh my goodness," said Judy. "I think you may have done your uncle in."

Alfonso glanced out the window. The Dragoonya plants of war were just a few feet away. The nearest one opened its massive jaws and leapt for the door handle. It was locked. The plant snarled. All five gathered on the ground below the window and lunged at it together, crashing into the glass. The window held, but spidery cracks appeared.

Suddenly Hill's eyes twitched open. His nose wiggled. His lips puckered. An instant later he was sitting erect in his seat, squinting sleepily through the windshield. "Not exactly sure where I am," muttered Hill. "But I think it might be best to depart promptly." With that, he gunned the engine and the plane began to slide across the frozen lake. The plants of war lunged again but missed the window and hit the metal fuselage with such force that the plane rocked as it built up speed. "Up, up, and away," muttered Hill. He pulled back on the plane's steering wheel. Moments later, they were airborne and Hill navigated the plane expertly through a tight space between two large trees.

As the seaplane gained altitude, Alfonso looked out the window and saw the frozen landscape of Minnesota expand beneath him, all those ice-covered lakes and snowy fields. From this height everything looked so peaceful, like a soft white carpet lit up by the moon. Inside the cockpit, however, things were far less calm. It sounded as if someone was banging together two frying pans directly in Alfonso's ear, and the noise seemed to be coming from the plane's rickety propellers. Plus, everything rattled—the floor, the seats, even the steering wheel. The vibrations worked their way through Alfonso's feet, up his legs, along his spine, and into his jaw.

Hill piloted the plane and snored peacefully for about an hour until, rather abruptly, he woke up and gingerly rubbed his head.

He looked at Alfonso. "You really gave me a good whack with that wrench."

"Hill, what are you doing awake?" asked Judy nervously. "I thought you could fly the plane only when you were asleep."

"Actually," said Hill, "I can fly well enough when I'm awake, but I'm really much better at piloting when I'm asleep, especially when it comes to tricky operations—like taking off in a rickety old seaplane in the depths of winter." He paused. "How's Pappy? I haven't heard anything from him since the greenhouse."

"I don't know," Judy gravely replied. "His foot is completely broken at the shin. He's been passed out now for a long time. He's still breathing, and I want to wake him up, but he should rest while he can. He needs medical attention quickly."

"He'll be fine," replied Hill. "I suspect he's as healthy as a horse. I'm not a doctor, but being in the military, I saw my fair share of injuries, and I can tell that it was a clean break."

"I hope so," replied Judy. She glanced at Pappy. "You say you were in the air force?"

"Indeed," Hill said, nodding vigorously. He eased back into the pilot's seat and began to explain. Back in his air force days he'd actually set a world record for flying a transport plane—56.8 hours straight—on a trip from Los Angeles to Miami. There was just one problem: he had gone the wrong way. He had, of course, intended to take the direct route of flying across the United States from Los Angeles to Miami, but he had fallen asleep at the wheel and gone the other way around the world instead. He flew over the Pacific Ocean, Asia, Europe, and then over the Atlantic Ocean to Miami. The following day the
Miami Herald
ran the following banner:
MAN TRAVELS AROUND THE
GLOBE BACKWARDS IN HIS SLEEP: AIR FORCE IS ANNOYED BUT PROUD.