Dormia (8 page)

"Are ya all right?" asked Bilblox.

Alfonso nodded sleepily.

They continued their slow descent down the stairwell until they entered what appeared to be crew quarters. In the gloom illuminated by Alfonso's flashlight, thick piles of rust sat in every corner, like dark sawdust. They slid through the crew's quarters, pushed open a heavy steel door, and looked down another long corridor, although this one was even narrower than the stairwell they had just descended. Alfonso's flashlight panned along a whitewashed wall, revealing a number of dark areas that looked like ink blots. "Lots of rust," he said sleepily. "Follow my feet. Think like a squirrel."

Alfonso walked along the wall—which was tilting at a crazy angle—and kept his hands outstretched for balance. The longshoremen tried to imitate his steps as closely as possible. A few times, Alfonso tested an area with the tip of his foot only to see it crumble through the wall as easily as through paper. Still, he had learned from his initial fall and they made it through the hallway unharmed.

Passing through the next door, they entered a hallway with
a metal ladder that led down through a hole in the floor and into the blackness below.

"What's wrong?" Bilblox whispered. "That's our way down."

"Not this time," Alfonso replied with a yawn. "Rusted through." Alfonso continued down the hallway until they came to a large pipe that descended directly down in the same direction as the metal ladder. They peered into the pipe and saw the cannonballs roughly fifty feet below them.

"All right, men," said Bilblox. "Lower me and Alfonso into this hole. Then I'll bring back the cannonballs and we'll be out of here." The men nodded eagerly and adjusted their rope so that there was plenty of slack to lower Bilblox and Alfonso. Alfonso went first and landed directly on top of a cannonball. Seconds later, Bilblox landed alongside him.

"Holy smokes!" said Bilblox excitedly. "I can't believe ya found them so quickly. If we can just get back alive, we'll make history!"

***

Back outside the ship, the crowd was growing restless. With all the gamblers in attendance, large sums of money were riding on the outcome of this match. On top of this, for all the Magrewski longshoremen, a great deal of pride was at stake. The Magrewskis had not won in over ten years, and, if their luck didn't change, the brotherhood's reputation would only sink deeper. Last but not least, for all the family members of the contestants, there was the added worry that something might go horribly wrong inside the belly of the ship.

Judy and Pappy watched the deck of the ship nervously, but said nothing.

"There's no way the Magrewskis can win," an old sailor standing nearby loudly declared. "I only hope that Leif's boy don't take a nasty fall and bust open his noggin like that mole rat from two years ago. What a pity that was. I think he's just learned how to eat with a fork again."

Judy winced.
How could Hill have possibly assured her that this was a safe sport?
If anything happened to Alfonso—

Just then, however, a massive roar came from the crowd. There, standing on the upper deck of the
Nyetbezkov
was Alfonso. Behind him were five triumphant Magrewskis. One at a time, the longshoremen threw their cannonballs over the side of the deck. The crowd grew louder. Soon the Magrewskis were all shimmying down the rope ladder toward the beach. When they arrived at the bottom, they ran with the cannonballs back to the starting line. Alfonso followed behind. His feet dragged but he managed to jog. It was only then that they saw Timmons's team appear on the upper deck.

Alfonso and his team had won.

A whooping, hollering horde of at least one hundred Magrewski longshoremen rushed toward Alfonso. Dusty and Hill led the charge. "Ya did it!" yelled Dusty. "By Jove, ya did it!"

Alfonso awoke to the sound of this cheering. As he blinked sleepily, he became aware that he was sitting on someone's shoulders. They belonged to Bilblox. All around him people were cheering. Longshoremen were pushing and shoving to get close and shake Alfonso's hand. Bilblox, however, kept them all safely at bay.

"We did it in record time," yelled Bilblox. "Yer old man woulda been proud—mighty proud!"

"How did ya do it so quickly?" asked Dusty.

"I don't know," Alfonso yelled over the din of the crowd. "It's all a blur."

"I told you!" Hill yelled. "I knew you could do it. Now we'll be on our way—on our way to the Urals!"

"Yes indeed," said Dusty. "I'll make all the arrangements."

Alfonso climbed down from Bilblox's shoulders and drew close to his uncle. "Uncle Hill, I can't go with you to the Urals," he said. "Mom will never agree."

"I'll convince her!" promised Hill. "I'll beg her."

Alfonso shook his head. He simply knew it would never work.

Hill frowned.

"We have no choice," Alfonso said. He leaned in close and whispered into his uncle's ear, "Can I trust you to take the Dormian bloom?"

T
HAT NIGHT
, as he lay in his bed, Alfonso stared at the ceiling and watched the flames from the potbelly stove cast a flickering light on the ceiling of the bunkroom. Judy, Hill, and Pappy were fast asleep. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire, the rumble of Pappy's snoring, and the ticking of Hill's old-fashioned windup alarm clock. Hill's alarm was set for four o'clock in the morning. As soon as it rang, Hill would set off to meet Vice Admiral Purcheezie. By midday, Hill would be sailing westward toward Russia and the Ural Mountains. And, in keeping with Alfonso's wishes, Hill would be taking the Dormian bloom with him.

At first, both Judy and Pappy were stunned by Alfonso's decision to hand over the Dormian bloom to his uncle. "That's
crazy!" said Pappy. "That plant is worth a fortune!" This was true, admitted Alfonso, but he quickly reminded Pappy that the plant was
his
and he could do with it as he pleased. In truth, Alfonso was not particularly eager to give up the Dormian bloom, but what else could he do? He was just twelve years old. He couldn't set off halfway around the world to go roaming around the Ural Mountains in search of some hidden city, even if he had discovered its location. He had school, chores, and life back in World's End, Minnesota. Besides, his mother would never, ever agree. So Alfonso had done the only thing he could do. He entrusted the plant to his uncle.

"Don't worry," Hill had told his nephew. "I'll keep the Dormian bloom on me at all times." Then, to show Alfonso just how serious he was about this promise, he produced the old top hat that they'd been using to cover and hide the plant. Hill had done some handy work on the top hat. He had removed the circular top of the hat and replaced it with a glass panel. "It's like a skylight," explained Hill. "This way I can put the plant inside the hat and the plant will still get plenty of light. I'll just keep the hat—and the plant—on my head at all times!"

Alfonso had been impressed with Hill's cleverness, but it did little to lift his spirits. It was now almost midnight. In four more hours, Hill and his plant would be gone—perhaps forever. It was a very depressing thought. The only thing to do now was to go to sleep. Yet, as hard as he tried, Alfonso simply couldn't fall asleep. His mind was still racing with images from the day: the crowds at the beach, the rusting hulk of the
Nyetbezkov,
the view from Bilblox's shoulders of the overjoyed
Magrewski longshoremen, and the embarrassingly long hug that his mother had given him.

At some point, Alfonso's thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise:
Bang! Bang! Bang!
It sounded as if someone were rapping their knuckles on a large slab of wood, perhaps the front door of the warehouse. Alfonso glanced at Hill, Judy, and Pappy, but they were all still fast asleep. The knocking stopped and then a few seconds later began again. Alfonso lay in bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore what he heard. What was going on? Maybe one of the longshoremen had gotten locked out? He was tempted to answer the door, but Dusty had warned him not to go snooping around the warehouse at night because the guards had orders to shoot all intruders on sight. But the knocking persisted. In fact, it grew louder.
Bang! Bang! Bang!

Finally, Alfonso climbed out of bed, walked out of the bunk-room, and tiptoed over to the massive oak doors that sealed the entrance to the warehouse. The doors were at least fifteen feet high. There was no way Alfonso could open them. There was, however, a small peephole that he could open to get a glimpse of who was standing outside. He was tempted to open the peephole, but instead he simply said, in a very meek voice, "Who's there?"

"Alms for the poor, please ... alms for the poor," came the reply.

"I'm sorry," Alfonso replied. "I don't have anything."

The person on the other side emitted a wheezy, gasping laugh. "Surely there are things to help the poor somewhere in this impressive warehouse."

"They're not mine and I don't live here," said Alfonso.

"Where are you from?"

Alfonso hesitated before answering that he was from Minnesota.

Another laugh. "I know it well," said the voice. "The trees there grow very tall. Come my young friend, a fellow traveler like you must have something of value, be it coins, food, or perhaps something else..."

There was something familiar about this person's voice. Who was he? Alfonso looked at the door's peephole, took a deep breath, reached up, and slid it open. Two wide-open eyes, totally white, stared back at him. Alfonso gasped, not only because of their hideous appearance but because he recognized them immediately. He was staring face to face at Kiril. His face was no longer hidden by a hat, and his long, snakelike scar gleamed a pale blue in the moonlight.

"You followed me here," stammered Alfonso. He felt frozen in place, just as he had in the forest back in World's End.

"No, my friend," said Kiril. "I was here long before you arrived. It was you who followed me."

"I don't understand," Alfonso replied.

"Of course you don't," said Kiril. His voice was kindly, but somehow it gave Alfonso a creepy feeling, as if a bead of ice-cold water were running down his spine. "You are too young to understand," continued Kiril. "When are you going to come to your senses and let me help you? Besides, what makes you trust the man who claims to be your uncle? Do you really know him? Why wasn't he around when you were growing up? And why does he know so little about his own past? Strange, isn't it? And soon he will lead you into a trap..."

"What do you mean?" demanded Alfonso.

"This man who professes to be your uncle will deliver you directly into the hands of the enemy," explained Kiril. "And then he'll blame all of his missteps on his faulty memory. I have foreseen the entire thing. Trust me."

"Why should I trust you?" asked Alfonso. "I don't know who you are."

"I've been nothing but honest with you," replied Kiril. "If anyone has been underhanded it has been
you.
Tell me: why did you lie to me about the Dormian bloom? I know you have it—and so does my father."

"Your father?" inquired Alfonso. "Who are you talking about?"

"He's your only true friend," replied Kiril. "It would be a mistake to trust anyone else."

"Well, I'm sorry," said Alfonso, "but I don't trust him either."

Alfonso started to back away, but before he could, a long, pale, bony hand shot through the narrow peephole and clasped Alfonso tightly around the throat.

"Blasphemy!" hissed Kiril. "My father is the only one who can help you—how dare you question him!"

"Let go," gasped Alfonso. He used all of his strength to grab Kiril's middle finger and bend it backwards. Kiril howled with pain and released Alfonso's throat. Alfonso slammed the peephole shut and stumbled backwards, grabbing his throat. Outside the door, Kiril was still talking. "Don't go," he begged. "Let me help you! I've acted in a fit of anger! I am sorry!
Come back!
"

Alfonso said nothing in response and instead ran back to the safety of the bunkroom. Only then did he realize he was holding something in his hand.

It was a ring.

In the struggle with Kiril, Alfonso had somehow managed to pull a ring off the man's middle finger. It was made of a dull gold, and carved on top was an intricate coat of arms. The coat of arms showed a picture of a Dormian bloom in front of a setting sun. Alfonso shuddered at the thought of the ring's owner. He shoved the ring deep into his pocket and forced his eyes closed. Although he was covered in sweat from the encounter, he fell asleep almost immediately.

***

Alfonso awoke a few hours later, just before four in the morning. It was one of those strange waking moments when, as soon as he opened his eyes, Alfonso found that his mind was as crystal clear and as wide awake as it had ever been. He was overcome with a single, unquestionable, overpowering feeling.
He had to go to the Urals. He himself had to deliver the Dormian bloom to Somnos.
This feeling came from deep within Alfonso's gut. It was obvious to him now that he had to be very careful about whom he trusted. He certainly didn't trust Kiril, but suddenly, he didn't fully trust
anyone
except himself. Although he believed that Hill probably was his uncle, he still wasn't sure about Hill's motives.

The simple truth was that he, Alfonso Perplexon, had grown this Dormian bloom. There had to be a reason for it. True, he was just twelve years old, but somehow Alfonso knew that he alone could deliver this plant to its rightful home. He had never
felt so certain of anything in his entire life. This was
his
journey to make; oddly enough, as soon as he came to this realization, he was overcome by a great sense of calm.

Alfonso got out of bed and crept over to the bunk where Judy was sleeping. He shook his mother gently. She opened her eyes groggily. "What's the matter, Alfonso?" she asked. "What are you doing awake?"

"Mom, I have to go," said Alfonso in the most determined voice that he could muster. "I have to go with Uncle Hill to the Urals."