Epoch (16 page)

When Vincent stood back up, the helicopter had landed. Mr. Wilkins climbed out and walked toward them, accompanied by four troopers. On his right hand, Vincent noted with interest, he wore a gauntlet identical to the ones worn by Mr. Edwards’s robotic bodyguards.

“Barnaby!” Mr. Wilkins said, taking hold of his son. “You made it. But then, I knew you would. We Wilkinses are made of stern stuff.”

“We sure are, Dad,” Barnaby replied. “How did you find me?”

“You have a homing device on you,” Mr. Wilkins said. “I didn’t trust my boss Edwards to rescue you when things went bad, so I took precautions. I would have come for you sooner, but the tornadoes made flying impossible.”

“So you knew what was coming,” Chanteuse said, “yet you didn’t warn anyone, even your son.”

“Who are these people?” Wilkins asked, gesturing with his gloved hand. “I see elves, one pixie, and … is that a troll?”

“That’s her mom,” Barnaby said, pointing at Chanteuse.

“She could almost pass for human,” Wilkins said. “Though certainly not a pretty one.”

“How dare you!” Chanteuse said, and Miss Sloam took a threatening step forward.

“Stay where you are,” Wilkins said dangerously. He raised his gloved hand, and his troopers aimed their weapons.

“Do as he says,” Vincent said. “Those gloves hurt.”

“Smart boy,” Wilkins said. “I remember you. You’re the one that wanted to befriend my Barnaby. Tell me, son, did he pass the test?”

“Nope,” Banraby said with a wide, evil grin. “And his friends here took me hostage.”

“We did not!” Max shouted.

“We saved his life,” Grimbowl added.

“Enough of this!” Mr. Drear said, pushing his way to the front of the group. “We are Triumvirites, sir, and are on a quest to spread the Sacred Truth. We need transport, and the Triumvirate have delivered you and your helicopters unto us. Will you give us passage?”

“Let me consider that,” Wilkins said. “No.”

“No?” Mr. Drear asked. “But you were sent to us in our hour of need!”

“I came here to collect my son,” Wilkins said. “That is all. I can think of no reason why I should transport any of you anywhere. Can you, Barnaby?”

“Nope,” Barnaby replied. “In fact, I think you should shoot them.”

“Just say the word, sir,” said one of the four troopers.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Wilkins said. “We will leave them here to enjoy what little time they have left before the volcanoes erupt.”

“Volcanoes?” Big Tom said. “There’s going to be volcanoes?”

“Oh yes,” Wilkins said. “The final stage of planetary upheavals before the portals close and the epoch ends.”

“So the world will end with volcanoes,” Big Tom said. “My science fair project was right. Sort of.”

“You might survive the ash and lava long enough to see the demons arrive,” Wilkins went on, “but I doubt it.”

“What makes you think you’ll escape?” Vincent said. “You really think Edwards is going to let you through the Portal?”

Mr. Wilkins’s smile faltered, ever so slightly.

“Of course he will!” Barnaby said, crossing his fingers and waving them in Vincent’s face. “Him and my dad are like this.”

“We’ll see,” Vincent said, and just then there was a tap on his shoulder. “Now, how about you hand over those helicopters and surrender?”

Mr. Wilkins blinked in surprise.

“Say what?” Barnaby said.

“Are you trying to be funny?” Wilkins added.

“No,” Vincent replied. “Optar?”

The wise old elf stepped forward, holding an Alphega communicator in his hands.

“Attention all pilots,” he said into the comm. “You are now under my power. Land at once, or there will be pain.”

The helicopters swerved in the air as the pilots attempted to disobey. Moments later they saw sense, and the choppers came down as ordered.

“What is going on?” Wilkins stammered, watching in disbelief.

“My cloaked friend Nod put obyons into your pilots’ noses,” Vincent said, “then took a communicator from one of your troopers.”

All four troopers checked their belts, and one looked up sheepishly.

“Those helicopters,” Optar added, “are now under our control.”

“Huh?” said a suddenly very worried Barnaby.

“Interesting ploy,” Wilkins said, “but useless. Troopers, kill them.”

The four troopers took aim, but when they pulled their triggers nothing happened.

“I also asked Nod to safety all of your guns,” Vincent said.

Clara, Nod, and Miss Sloam took that as their cue to act. They sprang forward into the troopers, fists flying. Mr. Wilkins and Barnaby watched in horror as their troops fell, then turned and viewed Vincent and his friends. There was fear in their eyes, and Vincent couldn’t help but love it.

“Now,” he said to them, “how about that ride?”

• • •

The three helicopters approached the Alphega Corporate Headquarters, leaving the ruined city behind them. The first helicopter carried Chanteuse and her mother, and Barnaby and his father. Optar had suggested leaving the Wilkinses behind, but Chanteuse wouldn’t allow any lives to be lost.

The second carried the elves and the four captive troopers. The third carried Vincent, Max, their parents, Big Tom, and the two pixies.

The huge building had sustained no damage from either the earthquake or the tornadoes; it seemed the Portal Sites were the only safe places on Earth.

The trip took fifteen minutes, during which time Vincent and his brother tried to make their parents understand the situation. Mrs. Drear seemed to be taking it in, but Mr. Drear would not.

“You are all deceived,” their father said for the tenth time. “Demons walk the Earth, and clearly the time of Tribulation has started, but there is nothing in the Text of the Triumvirate about Portal Sites!”

“But father,” said Max, “perhaps these Portal Sites are what the Text was referring to when it said the Faithful would be taken from the world.”

“The Text also says there will be doctrines of demons and false prophets, leading many astray,” Mr. Drear shot back. “Are we to believe the word of these demons ... ”

“Pixies,” Clara corrected.

“Silence!” Mr. Drear said to her, holding up his copy of the Text. “You have protected my sons, and for that I am grateful, but you are not spoken of in this Book, and so I cannot trust you.”

“Sir,” Nod said, “I met the guy who wrote that book.”

“It was written by Jesus, Moses, and Abraham!” Mr. Drear shouted. “And they were inspired by God.”

“It was written fifty years ago by an elf,” Nod said, “who planted it into an archaeological site in Jerusalem. As a gag.”

“Heresy!”

“Truth.”

“Oh brother,” said the pilot.

“Stay out of this,” Vincent said, smacking the back of his helmet. “Look, Dad, if we show you the portal, will you at least consider it then?”

“No,” his father replied. “And not one member of this family is going through that portal, either. As soon as we have vanquished the demons, we are going to build picket signs to keep people away from this place!”

“Oh boy,” said the pilot.

“I told you, stay out of this,” Vincent said, whacking his helmet again.

“Not you,” the pilot said irritably. “Look at the other helicopters. They’re under attack.”

“Under attack?” Vincent said. “By what? Who’s attacking them?”

“They’re being swarmed,” the pilot replied, “by demons.”

Vincent, Big Tom, and the others stared out the helicopter windows as they arrived in Alphega’s airspace. It was true; one of the other helicopters was under attack from the demons, and the other one had already fallen. It lay in a burning wreck on the ground, with demons picking through it like vultures.

“No ... ” Vincent said. Friends of his had been in that helicopter.

The other helicopter swerved to avoid the demons, who fired themselves like missiles at its hold. Under such an attack, there was no way they could land safely. In fact, it seemed as if their fiery destruction was a certainty.

“What’re they doing?” Big Tom asked. “I thought the demons were on their side.”

“It’s a feeding frenzy,” Clara answered him. “They must have learned that post-epochal creatures were on board. And with the turning of the epoch so close at hand, they must be in a hunger craze.”

There was a loud bang just then, followed by another and another. The helicopter had taken to shooting missiles at the demons, but the missiles had missed and hit the building instead.

“Oh, that’s not good,” the pilot said.

“Time to deal with the demon problem,” Nod said, stripping off his apron pocket.

“Don’t do that!” Vincent said. “The demons’ll be able to taste you.”

“Exactly,” Nod said. “Some of them will come for me instead of the other chopper, and I’ll be ready for them. You coming, Clara?” he added, picking up a spray can. The can was bigger than he was; he had to wrap one arm around it and press it to his chest, then reach up for the nozzle with his other hand.

“I’m right behind you,” she said, taking another can. “Let us out!”

Vincent opened the side door, and the two pixies flew out and away. And good thing, too. Some of the demons were zooming in on them, no doubt reacting to Nod’s presence. The pixies intercepted them, spraying hard and then speeding away to avoid the deadly mouths.

Their first attack had little effect. They were still too close to the helicopter, and the rotor blades interfered with the spray. One demon got some on his legs, and another on his chin, but not enough to do any serious harm. Nod and Clara led them away from the chopper, then spun around and sprayed at their pursuers. This time, the spray reached its mark, and four demons dropped from the sky.

So did the other chopper. As Vincent and Big Tom watched helplessly, the smoking helicopter plummeted straight toward the already-damaged building. Employees who had been evacuating ran screaming in all directions to avoid the coming crash.

At the last second, Miss Sloam leapt out the side of the chopper, carrying Chanteuse, Barnaby, and Mr. Wilkins in her arms. She landed on her powerful legs and ran, while above her the helicopter crashed and exploded.

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Drear gasped. “All those people ... ”

In a great rumble and a pluming cloud of dust, the northern half of the Alphega Corporate Headquarters collapsed. It was a terrible, terrifying sight, yet even through the dust cloud Vincent could see a ray of hope.

“The portal!” he cried, pointing at the bright glow shining through the ashen fog.

“Wow,” said Big Tom.

“It’s beautiful,” said Mrs. Drear. “Gerald, can you see it?”

“I see it,” Mr. Drear said. “It is a portal all right … to Hell!”

“Oh brother,” said the pilot.

“Shut up,” Vincent said, smacking his helmet again. “Take us down. We can’t help our friends from up here.”

“Are you kidding?” said the pilot. “I’m not going down there! It’s dangerous.”

Vincent wondered why the pilot was able to disobey, since he still had an obyon up his nose. Then he remembered the obyons only responded to elves, and there were none on board.

“You’ll do as my brother tells you,” Max said, rapping the pilot’s helmet with his knuckles.

“No I won’t,” the pilot replied. “And stop hitting me. We could crash.”

“We’ll crash anyway when those demons get to us,” Vincent pointed out. “On the ground you’ll have a fighting chance.”

“Good point,” the pilot said. “Down it is.”

The helicopter touched down without incident. The demons, it seemed, were busy elsewhere. Vincent noticed there seemed to be only two groups of them now, each chasing something.

“They’re after the pixies!” Big Tom said as they jumped out of the helicopter.

“They must have finished with the elves,” Vincent said sadly. Then he had a horrible thought. He looked around frantically, then relaxed when he saw Chanteuse and her mother not far away. The demons obviously hadn’t realized the truth about Miss Sloam.

“Come on,” Vincent said, grabbing two spray cans. “Let’s help Nod and Clara.”

Vincent ran toward the ruined building, waving his arms in the air. Big Tom ran after him, not knowing what Vincent was up to but copying his actions anyway.

“Why are we doing this?” Big Tom asked Vincent as he caught up.

“To get the pixies’ attention,” Vincent replied. “We want them to fly over us.”

“Oh,” Big Tom said. “Why?”

“I’ll show you,” Vincent said, because at that moment Clara was zooming down toward them with six demons in hot pursuit.

“Stand ready,” Vincent said, readying his two cans.

“Oh, I get it!” Big Tom said, raising his own cans. “We’re a trap!”

“Here they come,” Vincent said as Clara flew past them. “Fire!”

Vincent and Big Tom let fly with their deadly, ozone-depleting mist as the demons flew in. Two took it full in the mouth, two got it on their arms and wings, and one noticed in time and flew up and over the spray. The last one ducked under the spray, ramming Vincent square in the chest.

The last thing Vincent thought before he blacked out was, “Not again … ”

• • •

Vincent stood in a vat of glue, trying to make it to a racetrack finishline suspended across the far end. He struggled and heaved and pulled at his legs, but he was held fast.

“Okay, do I need to spell this one out for you?”

Vincent looked around and saw a familiar elf hovering over the glue beside him.

“Grimbowl!” he cried. “You’re alive!”

“Nope,” Grimbowl said sadly. “I’m afraid I’m taking the ultimate out-of-body experience, kid. The demons finally got me, just like they got the rest of us.”

“No,” Vincent said. “All the elves … Grimbowl, I’m so sorry.”

“Wasn’t so bad,” Grimbowl said, taking Vincent’s hand. “The others have gone on to the great tree village in the sky, but I stuck around on the off chance someone got knocked unconscious. Might have guessed it’d be you.”

“Hey!”

“Time’s short, kid,” Grimbowl went on, tugging on Vincent’s hand. “Let’s get out of this dream so I can show you how to save the world.”

Vincent had trouble accepting that his friend before him was dead. He clung tightly to the elf’s astral hand, afraid that if he let go Grimbowl would vanish forever.

“Wipe that look off your face,” Grimbowl said, yanking him out of the dream. “Strong emotions will pull you back to your body, remember? And I need you out here.”

“I know,” Vincent said as they hovered over his sleeping body, which Big Tom was trying to wake up. “It’s just ... ”

“Mourn me later,” Grimbowl said. “You know those magical wards keeping everyone on Earth from sensing the Portal Sites? Rennik told us how to disable them.”

“How?” Vincent asked.

“Wards that powerful can only be created by a huge source of magic,” Grimbowl said. “There were creatures in my day that could have done it by themselves, but who knows how they’re doing it now ... ”

“Doing what?” Vincent prodded him.

“You have to destroy the power source,” Grimbowl said. “But that isn’t enough. First, you have to fly your astral form through the power source and touch the portal. When you destroy the power source, the spell will be reversed and the Calling will shoot out stronger than ever. Got it?”

“Fly through the power source, touch the portal, then blow the source up,” Vincent said. “Got it. Hey! You’re in astral form. Why can’t ... ”

“I don’t have a silver cord any more,” Grimbowl explained. “My body’s gone, remember? Your silver cord is what’ll connect the portal to the power source. Sorry, should have explained that earlier.”

“Okay, fine,” Vincent said.

“One more thing,” Grimbowl said, and he hovered right next to Vincent’s astral form and whispered.

“You did what?” Vincent said.

“Tell her later,” Grimbowl said. “And tell her I said sorry.”

“Okay,” Vincent said. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” Grimbowl said. “Now, all you’ve got to do is stay in astral form until you find the power source. It’s got to be around here somewhere … ”

“Uh oh,” Vincent said.

Chanteuse and her mother were walking toward his body, accompanied by Barnaby and his father. Walking up behind them were none other than Mr. Edwards and his two robotic bodyguards, and they did not look happy.

“Francis Wilkins!” Mr. Edwards barked. “I understand you employed three company helicopters without my permission, and brought a multitude of persons here against my express instructions. Explain yourself.”

“I went to rescue my son,” Wilkins told his boss. “He was in danger.”

“I see,” said Edwards. “And these people?”

“They kidnapped us!” Barnaby cried, pointing at Miss Sloam. “She’s a troll, you know.”

“Barnaby!” Chanteuse cried.

“Oh, not good,” Vincent said.

“Is she?” Edwards said.

“She sure is,” Barnaby said, “and she’s plotting to bring down the magic wards!”

Vincent felt rage boiling in him. Barnaby had betrayed them—again—in spite of everything they’d done for him.

“Calm down, kid,” Grimbowl told him. “We still need to find that power source.”

“I see,” Edwards said, returning his attention to Mr. Wilkins. “You and your son not only brought post-epochal beings here, but you brought the very people who threaten me the most.” As he spoke, he turned and looked over at Vincent’s body. “Tell me, Francis, is there any reason I shouldn’t simply leave you two behind with the rest of your species?”

Barnaby and his father’s faces became masks of terror, but Vincent’s astral face lit up with a sudden revelation. Mr. Edwards always talked about humans as if he were not one of them. That meant he was probably something else. Max’s comments about the
Prisons & Poltergeists
book came back to him, and Vincent suddenly knew what something else was.

“I’ve found the power source,” he told Grimbowl.

“Great,” the elf’s spirit answered. “Where?”

Before Vincent could answer, he saw Edwards nod to his bodyguards. The robots responded, raising their gauntlets and aiming them at Barnaby and his father.

“Then again, you have been useful to me in the past,” Edwards went on, “and so I shall grant you both a far more merciful death.”

Barnaby and his father turned to run, but they were too late. Horrified, Vincent looked away, but what he saw was just as chilling. The demons, led by Bix, were coming for Miss Sloam.

“They’re going to kill Chanteuse’s mother!” Vincent cried, frozen with cold dread.

“Vincent, control it!” Grimbowl said. “You have to ... ”

But it was too late. Vincent’s soul snapped back to his body, and he woke up moaning in pain.

“Oh no,” he cried, clutching at his chest. “Now what do we do?”