Master of Fire - 1. Earth Analogue, 21st Century C.E.

Earth Analogue, 21st Century C.E.

Dry leaves skittered across the arena where three months ago knights had jousted—rather, where costumed players had performed for paying customers at the Sedona Renaissance Faire. Now, it was deserted. The acres of parking lot were once again a cow pasture; the barn was full of hay. The porta-potties had been emptied into tanker trucks and stood, row by row, waiting for the rental company to remove them. Tons of trash had been dumped into a ravine and covered with dirt bulldozed from the adjoining hillside.

A purring, soft at first, grew louder. A single headlight pierced the growing darkness. A lone figure on a motorcycle slowly maneuvered the washboard road that led from the state highway. The rider did not stop at the open gate, but rode into the compound, past the wooden shacks, now boarded up, from which turkey legs and replica swords had been sold. When he reached the moldering row of straw bales that had been the wall of the jousting arena, the boy stopped. Swinging the handlebars back and forth, he played the headlight over the arena and the barn behind it before turning the machine off. The headlight glowed orange, and then died as the engine stopped.

The boy took off his helmet and hung it by the chinstrap from the handlebars. He sat for several minutes, as if unsure what to do. Finally, he pushed down the kickstand and dismounted. He walked slowly around the arena, and then clambered over the wall. He was looking for what was not there: the giant cedar trees and yellow sunlight that he had seen through the door to another world—the door through which George Rogers had ridden.

*****

Marty entered the times into the computer and shut it down. He was too small to compete on the varsity swimming team, but contented himself with being its manager. Final tryouts for the winter season had finished earlier in the day, and Marty had kept the records. He stuck his head in the door of the coach’s office. “All done, coach. It’s on the server so you can access it from your desk.”

“Thanks, Marty,” the coach said. “You on your way home, now?”

“Yeah, coach,” the boy replied. “Mother’s expecting me home early this afternoon. She’s got to work the Dog Watch.” Marty’s mother was a nurse in the local hospital’s emergency room. Her work schedule was hard on her and Marty, but the odd hours paid better than a straight eight-to-five job.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” the coach said. “You’ll help me with the schedule, won’t you?”

“Sure, coach,” Marty answered. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

*****

Supper was over. Marty’s mother had left for the 6:00 PM start of her shift. Marty would be on his own until she returned the next morning. Marty cleared the table and cleaned the supper dishes, and then went onto the tiny front porch of the townhouse. Halloween was only a few days away, and he still had lots of decorations to put up. He had strung the orange lights, but the lanterns and ghosts and pumpkins that would sit on stakes in the yard were still packed in boxes. As Marty worked, he heard a motorcycle riding up and down the street, turning around in the cul-de-sac at one end then in the intersection at the other. He gave it little thought until it stopped in front of his house.

Marty looked up. The streetlight revealed a familiar figure. Marty frowned. Rocky. He’s in that gang of bullies…what is he doing here? Marty looked around. There was no one else in sight. I can’t go inside; I can’t show that I’m afraid of him. The silence when Rocky turned off the motorcycle was more frightening than the engine’s sound had been. The scrape of the kickstand on the asphalt sent a chill up Marty’s spine. I can’t pretend I don’t see him, now.

Marty straightened and looked at the boy walking toward him.

“I want to talk to you,” Rocky said.

“What do we have to talk about?” Marty asked. He was oddly unafraid.

“George Rogers,” Rocky said.

Marty thought for a moment. “You were there, weren’t you? At the renaissance faire. You and the gang you hang out with. You were there making fun of us…and George.”

“I’m not like them,” Rocky said.

“Yes, you are,” Marty said, surprised at his own boldness. “You hang around with them. You wear the same kind of clothes—like something out of a really bad James Dean movie. You swagger like they do. You pick on gay boys…whether they’re really gay or not…and you probably killed Kevin, George’s boyfriend.”

Rocky started. “What do you mean, killed Kevin?”

“My mother was in the E.R. when they brought him in. The police said he drove straight at the bridge. There were no skid marks. The engine was at full throttle according to the fisherman who saw it. Kevin killed himself. Suicide…They made the death certificate read accidental death for his family’s sake, but it was suicide. I heard about you and your friends sneaking into the pool and catching him and George having sex. Kevin’s brother is on the swim team, you know…everybody knew what had happened…He couldn’t take your teasing.”

“Oh, Marty! I didn’t know!” Rocky’s face paled, and his voice broke.

Marty looked at the older boy, fascinated. “You’re crying, aren’t you?”

Rocky caught his breath and wiped his eyes. “Nah, just allergies.” He sniffled.

“Marty, I want to go back to the faire, and I want you to go with me. And, I want you to bring the paper with the oath on it that Coach read the day George disappeared …yeah,” Rocky continued after he saw the startled look on the boy’s face. “I saw you stick it in your pocket. I know that you didn’t give it to the police. That paper—”

Marty interrupted. “It’s not paper. It’s parchment—real sheepskin.”

“Good, that’s even better. That parchment is going to show me the door to the world where George and that guy with the horse went.”

“Rocky, you’re nuts.” Marty sat on the steps and put down the stake he’d been holding. Whatever Rocky was, he wasn’t dangerous. “You won’t even play make-believe at the faire, and now you’re trying to make me think you believe in…what? Some kind of alternate universe?”

Rocky sat down beside him. “Marty, I’m not nuts. I saw where they went. It wasn’t into the barn. They rode into the woods, in the direction of the rising sun.”

“Huh?” Marty paused and thought for a minute. “There aren’t any woods, there. There’s fence on both sides of the barn. Behind that’s parking lot. And the barn is north of the arena. They jumped the fence of the arena and rode north. And it was three o’clock in the afternoon.”

“That’s right, Marty,” Rocky said. “At 3:00 o’clock in the afternoon they rode north into the rising sun. I could see it through the trees. I could see dew on the grass. That’s how I knew it was morning. Marty, they rode into another world.”

Marty sat still, stunned by what he’d just heard.

“Will you come with me? If you won’t, will you give me the parchment,” Rocky asked. “Please? I’ve got to find out…”

There was a long pause. “I can’t ride on that motorcycle in sandals. Let me put some boots on…and a jacket. It’s going to get cold,” Marty said.

Five minutes later, Marty came out and locked the front door of the house. He was wearing hiking boots, blue jeans, and a vinyl parka. He carried leather gloves in his hand. “I’ve got the parchment in my pocket; I’m ready,” he said.

When they reached the arena, Rocky switched off the lights of the motorcycle, but left the engine running. Its warmth was comforting in the chill night. The sky was clear; the moon had set some hours ago. Slowly their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness.

“What’s that glow?” Marty said, “Behind the barn. Is that Sedona?”

“Can’t be,” Rocky said, “Sedona’s west of us. Look, you can see some light in the sky.”

The glow grew stronger. Marty was the first to realize what he was seeing. “It’s the sun! It’s rising…” His voice trailed off, “It’s rising…at 10:00 o’clock at night…in the north!”

“Look! The door’s open! I can see the trees.” Rocky gunned the engine and let out the clutch.

“No!” Marty cried as he hung on to Rocky to keep from being thrown from the suddenly speeding motorcycle.

There was a flash of light and a smell of cinnamon, and then blackness.

Translators’ Notes

In this story, as well as others that begin on an Earth-analogue, we have changed the names of the characters and of their original hometown. We did this in order to spare the emotions of the families left behind, whether on our Earth or on another.