Durch Ferne Welten und Zeiten - 1. Chapter 1: Day 1

Day 1

The boundaries which divide life from death
are at best shadowy and vague.
—Edgar Allen Poe

Rudy shivered because he was cold, but also because he was lonely. After a decade of loving companionship, Sam was not there to cuddle him, to tell him he loved him, to share sex and exchange boy magic. Tomorrow, Rudy would become an apprentice at the College of Magic. Sam had brought Rudy to the college, and then returned to the farm where Rudy had spent most of this life. Tomorrow night, Rudy surely would find a partner from among the other boys or tweens at the college. Tonight, however, for the tenth night, he was alone. The Master had explained. Boys must understand the commitment they were making. If a boy could not spend a few days and nights without companionship and boy magic, he probably did not have the discipline needed to control the great magic. Rudy pulled the blanket closer and tried to sleep.

Sam shivered, as well. He was alone in the room he and Rudy had shared. Sam shivered because he knew that he would not see Rudy for years. The master of the college had explained. The most dangerous time for a young mage was during the first few years when he learned more quickly to create magic than he learned to control it. Apprentices were confined to the college until they knew enough not be a danger to others—or to themselves.

Mark did not shiver. The electricity was off, again. Without air conditioning, the Georgia sun had turned the ten-wide trailer into an oven. He’d opened the three windows that had screens, but the air was still. He lay awake; sweat streamed from his face and chest, soaking the mattress. His mother had explained. She’d spent the welfare check on beer for her latest boyfriend.

Kevin shivered with fear. His brother’s girlfriend . . . well, it was that time of the month. Kevin kept closer track of the girl’s periods than she, herself, did. When Kevin’s older brother didn’t get it from the girl, he was likely to force it from Kevin. His brother had explained. If Kevin went to the police, he would be put in juvenile detention; and if getting raped by his brother was bad, wait until they ganged up on him in juvie.

Andy shivered, but it was the shiver of release as he poured his essence and his magic into Billy. Billy shivered, too, as he tasted Andy’s magic. Neither Andy nor Billy needed explanation. They’d grown up with magic and boy-sex, and had been companions for nearly 20 years.

Alexis shivered. When he was a child, his mother had said a shiver like that meant someone had walked upon his grave. Alexis didn’t understand how someone could walk on his grave when he was very much alive. Now, he stood beside the pyre on which the body of his master lay. He nodded, and one of the servants pushed a torch into the mass of wood. Smoke, pale gray and then a darker, greasy black rose to the rooftop before being whisked away by the wind. When the fire burned out, Alexis put the letters from the Prince into his saddlebags, mounted the Clydesdale that stood patiently nearby, and rode toward the west.

Day 2

Rudy took his oath the next morning. He swore allegiance to the Light and to the Prince who Served the Light, and obedience to the Master of the College. Master Criticus swore to provide for, protect, and teach Rudy. Later, in the bath, Rudy found a partner for that night. A boy-journeyman named Marty invited Rudy to bathe with him and to move into the dormitory Marty shared with several other boys. Their sharing was exuberant. After ten days accumulation of boy-magic flowed from Rudy into Marty, a memory awakened in Rudy. He had known Marty, before.

Kevin’s brother had not come home the previous night. Kevin and Mark met at the coffee house, as they often did. Despite the heat, the boys went to Mark’s trailer home. It was the only place they felt safe. After sex, they showered. The water was hot; the gas hadn’t been turned off. They were drying when the bathroom light came on and the air-conditioner started. Either Mark’s mother’s boyfriend had paid off, or her appeal to the welfare people had worked.

Andy and Billy rode alongside the caravan. Their wagons were filled with sacks of flour. Hailstorms had destroyed some of the wheat crop in Carter, making it worthwhile to ship flour north from Arcadia. They would easily make enough money to buy their next cargo.

Day 3

The next evening, Rudy ran down the stairs to Chandler’s underground laboratory. Before he reached the door, Rudy vanished into a vortex of energy. He was alone, and no one saw him vanish. Every master and many of the journeymen heard the gate open and close. When Rudy was reported missing, they searched the college and then assumed the worst.

Coffee House, Georgia,
Earth Analogue

The light in the coffee house is dim. The air inside is cooler than the Georgia summer whose sun attacks the filmed windows. The door opens; a boy walks in. The air conditioner and the aroma of coffee labor to beat back the blast of hot air and the acrid stink of melting asphalt from the parking lot.

The boy’s clothes are on the edge of unusual: shapeless, dun trousers, pullover shirt that hangs past his waist, and moccasins but no socks. He sits at a table and looks at the door as if he were expecting someone. In a booth across the room, two boys sit side-by-side. They look at the screen of a web-book computer. The walls of the booth focus their whispers, which travel clearly to the table where the boy sits.

“The author has got to be the doctor in Minnesota” Kevin whispers. “It’s obvious.”

“Way too obvious,” Mark says. “I think he’s Arthur in the first story . . . he’s always a healer and a teacher, and he was always teaching George and Gary.”

“No, no. Look,” Kevin says. He moves his finger across the touch pad. “See? Jon, the doctor was Tyler’s teacher, and he taught at the monastery, and taught the new prince.”

The boy at the table across the room listens to their argument for several more minutes before standing and walking toward the booth. He stops at the end of the table, and says, “He’s none of them.”

The two boys look up. One fumbles. Before he can close the window on the computer, the new boy says, “The real author is none of those people. The real author is the storyteller. Who is the storyteller?”

The two boys at the table do not answer. The first boy continues, “Rudy. Sometimes known as Rudbeck. Do you know him?”

The two boys nod their heads. They look at one another. Mark stands, and then gestures for the new boy to slide into the booth. The new boy is sandwiched between Kevin and Mark.

“Who are you?” Mark asks.

The new boy does not answer, but points to the computer screen. “Can you show other stories?”

Mark moves the cursor from one title to another. He opens stories, pauses, and moves on after the boy nods.

They’re mine, the new boy thinks. I know them. The first one . . . that just happened a few years ago when Sam and I rode to visit his sister in Agium. The others . . . I know them, too, but I don’t know how I know them. His voice is low but confident when he answers. “I am the storyteller. My name is Rudy, Rudy of Barrone.”

“Yeah, right,” Mark says. “And I’m . . . I’m George of Sedona.” He giggles. It is a nervous giggle.

“No. George has black hair and violet eyes. You have the hair, but your eyes are blue. If you didn’t want to believe, why did you invite me here?” the boy who called himself Rudy challenges.

“Um . . . .” Kevin looks at Mark.

“Um . . . .” Mark looks at Kevin.

Kevin giggles. It is not a nervous giggle. Rather, it evokes sunlight and sweet herbs. “Because you’re cute?”

Rudy smiles. “I’m so glad you said that. Oh,” he waves his hands as if dismissing something. “Not that I think I’m cute, but because I’m glad to hear someone able to say it.”

Kevin glances at his watch, and then says, “Like Rocky? Like Chandler, I mean, who wanted to find a place where boys could cherish one another?” Kevin asks. His attitude has changed. His voice is different; he frowns.

Rudy draws away, but only for a moment. Then, he reaches out and puts his hand over Kevin’s. “Yes, exactly like that,” he says. He stares at Kevin until that boy blushes, pulls his hand away, and averts his gaze.

“You can’t know . . . ,” Rudy begins, and then stumbling over his words, he continues, “You probably know what it’s like to be—how did Arthur say it? ‘a gay teenager in a homophobic world.’ But can you imagine how someone from World would feel if he found himself trapped?” Rudy’s gesture includes the entire coffee house. “Trapped in your world?”

Mark’s eyes widen, and he nods. Kevin speaks. “Bullshit.”

Rudy’s shoulders drop; he looks at the tabletop. Kevin and Mark feel his body shake. Kevin pushes against Rudy. “Let me up.”

Mark grabs the table to keep from being pushed out of the booth. “No!” he says. The barista hears, and looks at the three boys. She shrugs, and returns her attention to her espresso machine.

“No,” Mark whispers. “Damn it, Kevin, I thought—”

“What did you think?” Kevin asks. “Did you think I really believed all this shit? Well, I don’t. I was playing along because . . .” The boy’s voice falters. “Because we’re friends, and it made you happy.”

“Let me up. I’m going home.” Kevin’s voice trembles.

Mark steps from the booth; Rudy stands beside him. “Please don’t leave on my account,” Rudy says to Kevin. “I’ll go . . .”

“I gotta get home,” Kevin says. “See you tomorrow,” he tosses over his shoulder before pushing through the door into the bright, hot, Georgia afternoon.

“I’m sorry,” Rudy says. “Perhaps you should go after him.”

Mark shakes his head. “He gets like this. It’s okay. We’ll still be friends tomorrow. We have to be. We’re the only . . .” His voice fades away. He gestures for Rudy to sit down, and then sits beside him.

Rudy’s hands move as if they were trying to grasp something that isn’t there. He clenches his fists. “Look,” he whispers.

Mark looks where Rudy is looking. In the middle of the computer screen, an image has formed. Mark gasps when he realizes what it is. “A tree,” he whispers. “An oak tree proper, with a crown. The symbol of the Elven kingdom.”

Rudy’s hands relax, and the image fades. “It’s hard,” he whispers. “There’s no magic here.”

“You’re really from—” Mark gestures to the computer screen. “From there?”

Rudy nods.

“How’d you get here?”

“Same way Arthur in the first story did,” Rudy says. “Evil mage. It’s a trope—”

“A what?” Mark interrupts.

“A trope. An over-used plot device in a story. I write stories. I live in stories, too. Sometimes, I wonder what’s real and what’s a story. Like now, for instance.”

“I’m real,” Mark said. He giggles. “And I believe you’re real, even though I haven’t held your hand or seen you piss.”

“Huh?” Rudy scrunches his eyebrows together.

“It’s in one of your stories,” Mark says.

“I’ve never written that,” Rudy says. “At least, I don’t remember writing that.”

“Then, it’s one you will write. Hey, will you come home with me? I live in the trailer park just down the road. Please?”

Mark’s Home

Mark closed the door of the mobile home. “What is the smell?” Rudy asked. His nose wrinkled and his eyes watered.

Mark turned the dial on a thermostat, and cool air came from the ceiling vents. It did little to dispel the odor. “Patchouli,” Mark said. “Incense,” he added, when Rudy furrowed his brow. “Mother uses it in her ceremonies.”

A memory bloomed in Rudy’s mind. “As the shaman did,” he said. “The smoke shows the magic as it forms. Your mother does magic? But there is none here.”

“Nah, she doesn’t do magic. She just thinks she’s a witch. It’s a grown-up pretend thing, I guess. She’s got lots of books.” He waved at a bookcase. “And a bunch of stuff—a silver knife, candles, colored chalk. And, when you pull the rug back, there’s a pentagram painted on the floor.

“Want a soda?”

Rudy shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. What is that?”

Mark paused on his way to the refrigerator, and turned back. “How long have you been here, anyway?”

“Um, since about sunrise, today.” Rudy said.

“Would you like a sandwich?”

“Yes, please.”

Mark’s cell buzzed. He handed Rudy the soda, and flipped the phone open. “My mother and her current ‘boyfriend’ are at a Braves game. They won’t be back tonight. Maybe not tomorrow night, either.” He snapped the phone shut and jammed it into his pocket.

“I believe you, I guess,” Mark said after taking a sip of his soda. “But you understood my laptop in the coffee house. How do you know about computers? Isn’t that forbidden technology?”

“Yes,” Rudy answered. He tried not to make a face as he drank the sickly-sweet, bubbly soda. The bread of the sandwich was stale, and the cheese was mushy and salty, but Rudy hadn’t eaten all day, so he didn’t sneer at that, either. He continued. “Arthur, the Arthur in the story, and George, didn’t seem to have any trouble talking about it, and I learned a lot from them. Yours was the first computer I’ve seen. I had been watching you for a while, and it was pretty obvious what it was and what you were doing.”

“And knowing English?”

“Are you sure you believe me?” Rudy asked.

“Yeah, but I want to understand, too.”

“That’s a pretty serious thought,” Rudy said. He hesitated, and then said, “You don’t want to understand too much. You’ll make yourself a target.”

Mark swallowed hard and sat up in the couch. Then he slumped back and looked at his feet. “Wouldn’t be any worse than it is, now. At least, like George said, I’d have something besides dreams.” Mark didn’t see the look that flashed across Rudy’s face.

Art imitates life; life imitates art. Rudy thought. Are we real? Was I really sent here by an evil mage, or is this a different trope?

Mark interrupted Rudy’s thoughts. “Now, about English?”

“The gates teach language,” Rudy said. “It’s part of being in harmony . . .” His voice drifted off as he yawned. “Sorry! I was pulled away from my world after supper . . . and came here before dawn. It’s almost dark, again. I’ve been awake for a long time. May I take a nap? I’m sorry, but I’m about to fall asleep.”

Mark showed Rudy the bathroom and Mark’s bedroom, and then went back to the kitchen. He tossed the soda cans in the recycle bin, put the paper napkins he’d used as sandwich plates in the garbage, and sat by the kitchen window with his web-book. The aluminum skin of the trailer blocked the signal from his neighbor’s WiFi, but if Mark sat by the window, he could get a connection. It wasn’t as fast as the one in the coffee house, but it was adequate. Mark downloaded “Knight Templar in Training,” a story in which Rudy had a small role.

At 11:00 PM, his cell buzzed—a text from Kevin. tmro k? Mark replied, shur, and then powered off the phone. He walked to the back of the mobile home. He undressed to his briefs in the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and then slid into bed beside the sleeping Rudy.

Rudy woke to find an arm across his chest and a warm body pressed against him. The warm body had an erection that poked into the small of Rudy’s back. Rudy’s head swam. The scent of incense nearly overpowered his sense of smell, yet he detected an acrid smell of unwashed boy, some of which was himself. Under that was a musty smell like a damp forest floor—that was mold in the mattress. A smell of decay came from the un-emptied garbage can in the kitchen. There was the sharp smell of urine: Mark hadn’t flushed the toilet before he went to bed. The musk of—

Rudy sat up and pulled away from Mark. Still asleep, the boy had been rubbing against Rudy’s back, and Rudy had smelled the boy’s pre-ejaculate.

“Mark,” Rudy said. He shook the boy’s shoulder. “Mark. Wake up. It’s morning.”

Mark woke from a beautiful dream that quickly faded until all that was left was a poignant memory—and a painful erection. “Huh? Kev—”

Mark’s eyes opened wide and he choked as he tried to speak and gasp at the same time. “You’re not Kevin! Rudy? You’re real? I thought you were a dream.

“You’re . . . you’re beautiful.” Mark rubbed sleep from his eyes, and blushed—and stared.

The thin sheet had fallen away when Rudy sat up. A sunbeam that pierced the blinds through a broken slat sparkled in the boy’s red-gold hair. Mark stared at a firm chest and arms, flat tummy, and hairless pubes. The boy’s penis was neither flaccid nor hard, but in an intermediate state. Mark’s hand, seemingly of its own volition, moved toward it.

Rudy intercepted Mark’s hand with his own. “Not now, Mark. Um, please don’t take this the wrong way, but we’re not clean. I haven’t bathed in two days, and I don’t think you have, either.”

Mark jerked back his hand, and sat up. “Come on.”

“I would ask you to shower with me,” Mark said when they reached the bathroom. “But the tub is narrow. It would be dangerous. Stand on this rubber mat. It’ll help keep you from slipping.” He showed Rudy how to work the shower controls, and pulled the mildewed plastic curtain, hiding the boy.

It hadn’t seemed to bother Rudy that Mark walked to the bathroom sporting an erection, even though Rudy’s penis stayed in its semi-soft state. It had bothered Mark considerably that Rudy walked to the bathroom naked. Strong legs, firm rounded buns, smooth skin, everything about him was perfection and beauty like Mark had only imagined.

He looks about my age, but he’s got no zits, Mark thought. He glanced at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, and turned away quickly. I’ve got another one. He crimped the tube of medicine, hoping to get another blob from it. Nothing. Wonder if she’ll buy me some more, he thought. Hope this ‘boyfriend’ gives her some money and not just a night in a motel.

Mark handed Rudy a towel, and took Rudy’s place in the shower. He scrubbed hard. All the time in the stories, he talks about bathing. I thought it was just about getting naked together, touching one another. But it’s not. He’s really got a thing about being clean.

Rudy had waited in the tiny bathroom. He handed the towel to Mark, and watched him dry himself. Mark’s erection had gone down, but began to rise, again.

He’s cute, Rudy thought. Not very muscular. Spends a lot of time reading that ‘computer,’ I guess. He’s definitely a boy, at least in this world. And, he and his friend are clearly lovers. I guess it would be okay to ask. “Mark, would you share with me? I guessed you wanted to. If it’s okay, I mean. I don’t know a lot about your customs.”

Mark’s toes curled so hard they scrunched up the bathmat. He blushed from his forehead to his chest. His whole body felt warm. Then, he froze. Kevin and I, we’re just kids. The only things we know about sex are what we read on the web, and we’re afraid to try most of them. And this guy’s like, a million years old, or something. I probably shouldn’t, he thought. But, his body gave him another answer. His penis hardened until it was nearly vertical; his scrotum drew tight. His heartbeat and breathing increased. “Uh, sure . . . uh, if you don’t think I’m too . . . stupid . . . I mean, it’s just been Kevin . . . I don’t know much.”

Rudy stopped Mark’s protests with a kiss that left Mark gasping for breath. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

Mark’s eyes widened as Rudy’s penis pulsed and the boy’s essence flowed into him. He closed his hands into tight fists and curled his toes, as something else seemed to pass into and through his body. It’s magic, he thought. It’s really magic . . . like Phillip said . . . it’s electric!

When Rudy caught his breath, he whispered, “That was wonderful, Mark. Kevin is so lucky to have you.”

Mark sat up, held his hand over Rudy’s tummy, and opened his fingers. It’s like a fluid, flowing through my fingers, he thought. Just a little . . . Without touching Rudy, he moved his fingers across the boy’s tummy and down. Rudy’s skin quivered and his penis, which had begun to soften, stood erect.

Rudy giggled. “You’re good. That’s very good. You can use magic.”

Mark nodded. “I’ve read how in your stories. I read them at night, every night. I’ve practically memorized them.”

Rudy blushed. “Thank you. Now, how about . . . well, you don’t have any magic to give me, but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel pleasure.” He brought his own hand over Mark’s tummy.

Two blocks away, Kevin grabbed his dad’s backpack and stuffed in clothes, a few tools, and his brother’s hunting knife. He looked at his brother, who was sprawled on his back, snoring. Goodby big brother. I hope I never see you, again. He grabbed his brother’s wallet and stuffed it in his pocket. In fact, no matter what, I’m not coming back, he resolved. Ever.

Ley Lines

Kevin had arrived, and dropped his backpack on the floor while Mark rooted through the kitchen for breakfast. He used an old-fashioned match to light the gas stove. “The pilot light doesn’t work,” he said. Rudy shrugged his incomprehension, but Mark had turned away. Mark fixed a cookie sheet of pop-tarts, and stale bread covered with peanut butter, and slid it into the oven.

Rudy politely did not say what he thought of the pop-tarts, but enjoyed the warm, runny peanut butter. “We have peanut butter,” he said, “but I never had it like this. I hope I remember this when . . . ” He paused. “ . . . when I get back.” Kevin and Rudy exchanged glances. They both understood what Rudy meant: “If I get back.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that,” Kevin said. “What if it’s like Phillip Windrider said: there are places where there is magic?”

“Yeah? Like, where? We’re not going to find a kiva in Georgia.” Mark said. “And what made you change your mind? Yesterday you said you didn’t believe . . . ”

Rudy looked from one boy to the other. His right eyebrow raised in question.

“I said, I’ve been thinking.” Kevin said. Not just about this, but about how to get away. “Anyway, I remembered about magic where Ley Lines join.” Mark and Rudy stared at Kevin.

Kevin said, “It was on National Explorer Channel and they showed one of the books your mother has. If you’d just pay attention sometimes. Here, this is the one.” He pulled a volume from the bookshelf that held the silver knife.

“Ley Lines are lines of magical force that crisscross the world.” he read. “Where they intersect are places of great power. The Knights Templar built their fortress-monasteries at intersections.”

He turned to a series of maps, and flipped from one to another. “Look, there’s an intersection in Salt Lake City at the Mormon Temple. Notre Dame in Paris sits on another. So does the headquarters of the Federal Reserve, in New York.”

“Magic is strong in these places?” Rudy asked.

“That’s what people believe,” Kevin said.

“Is there one near here?” Mark asked, before Rudy could even think of the question.

“Your mother believed there was. See what she’s written in the margin.” Kevin held out the book.

“Three lines intersect at the pitcher’s mound of the Braves stadium” Mark read. “It’s too bad the Braves don’t know how to use them any more. There’s also an intersection where the old AME Church was outside of Tallulah Falls before it burned down.”

“You’re kidding me,” Mark said. “Magic and baseball?”

“How do you think they won all those division championships?” Kevin countered.

“Base ball?” Rudy’s eyebrows were drawn together; there was a wrinkle on his forehead.

“Long story, Rudy,” Mark giggled. “Tell you later. But, if she’s right, there may be a place of power—one you can use. I mean, if you can open a gate?” Mark realized that power was only part of the equation.

“Yes,” Rudy said. “If this really is a place of power, I can open a door. I learned from a spell book. I remember trying many times. That was a long time ago. When I finally got it to work, well, there was no place I wanted to go.”

Kevin’s stomach churned. If this is real, there’s going to be no going back. But, I’ve got to figure out how to convince Mark, and maybe, trick Rudy.

Kevin took a deep breath, let it out, and said, “Mark, you promised we’d do a wilderness camping trip this summer. There are wilderness campsites at Tullulah Gorge State Park. We can take Rudy to the old church. The camping trip will be our excuse.” There’s also the lover’s leap on the trail. If this isn’t real, I mean. I can’t ask Mark, but I can—myself. Anything’s better than . . .

“Yeah? And how are we going to get there?” Mark asked.

Kevin raised the venetian blinds and pointed. His brother’s Mustang was parked by the trailer. “How?” Mark stuttered.

“Passed out drunk after he tried to rape me, an hour ago. His girlfriend turned him down, again. He’s still asleep.” Rudy was too shocked by the “rape me” to catch the rest of what Kevin said.

“You just have a learner’s permit,” Mark protested.

“Nope,” Kevin said. He grinned and pulled a plastic card from his pocket. “That’s why I left, yesterday. Passed the test!

“Okay, guys, here’s the plan,” Kevin continued. Mark leaned forward, eagerly. Rudy noted that Kevin seemed to be the dominant partner in this relationship. He also remembered sharing with Mark, and Mark’s use of magic. Mark has hidden strength; interesting, he thought, before Kevin continued.

“We’re going to pack for our wilderness trip. Mark, you use the old backpack I gave you. Also, we need one for Rudy. He’s got to have stuff in case the gate doesn’t take him back to where he wants to go.”

“One of my mother’s boyfriends left a duffle bag,” Mark said. “The zipper’s broken, but it’s got a rubber liner, and I can strap it shut. The handles will work like a backpack. I’ll use it, and give Rudy the one you gave me.”

“Good. Now, gimme your computer, please,” Kevin said. He slid into the chair by the window, punched keys, paused, and punched some more. Several minutes later, he looked up. “Okay, I have the location of the burned church and a reservation at a campsite—for tonight. Time to start packing.”

Mark nodded. He thought, sharing with Rudy was incredible. I’ll never have that, again. Still, Kevin’s pretty special, too. I’ll just have to make do with what I have. Rudy can’t stay here, that’s for sure.

Rudy nodded, too. “You are risking a lot for me. I cannot ever repay you. But, ‘A kindness is always repaid.’ I hope that works the same here as on my world.” Kevin and Mark exchanged looks, and nodded.

While Mark put clothes and a butcher knife in a backpack for Rudy, and put his own things into the duffle bag, Kevin grabbed two books from the bookcase. He hesitated, and then picked up the silver knife and a handful of candles. From the kitchen drawer, he took a nearly full box of strike-anywhere matches.

Mark pulled out the bread and peanut butter to make sandwiches.

“Hey, don’t,” Kevin said. “We’ll stop at a convenience store. Here,” he handed Mark one of the books. “Stick this in your duffle.”

Mark looked at the book. Aesop’s Fables. “I’ve got it on the computer.”

“Yeah, well, I want the original, okay?” Kevin said.

Kevin had tried to be casual, but Mark saw the tension on his friend’s face. Kevin’s up to something. What?

At the gas station/convenience store, Kevin instructed Mark, “Fill ’er up. I’ll go in and pay, and get supplies. Oh, yeah, and put the top down.”

The clerk took Kevin’s brother’s credit card while Kevin hurried through the store. Peanut butter. Good, they’ve got it in glass jars. All the bread is in plastic. I’ll have to get paper bags to hold it. Vienna sausages. They’re nasty, but the cans open with a tab. Tuna. Need a can opener. Two. One for Rudy. Got to show him how to use it. Cookies. The ones in cardboard boxes. We’ll need . . . Kevin thought furiously as he piled stuff on the counter.

Kevin kept the Mustang reined in, and didn’t go more than a couple of miles an hour over the speed limit. They reached the site of the old AME church just after 3:00 PM. Plenty of time, Mark thought. I guess, that is. How long does it take to open a gate?

The boys stepped onto the blackened concrete slab where the church had stood. “Rudy? Is there power here?” Mark asked. “How long will it take you to open the gate?”

Rudy took Mark’s hand, and then Kevin’s. Through Rudy’s magic, they saw the Ley Lines. Three bright lines crossed in the center of the concrete slab. The lines were almost 60 degrees apart, making an asterisk. “Wow, your mom was right,” Kevin whispered.

“We understand what’s going to happen, right? Mark, you and I, we’ll run interference. No matter what. Rudy’s going home, right?”

Mark nodded. Rudy kissed first Mark, and then Kevin. “Thank you. I will not see you, again, in this life, but I will look for you both in another.” His nose wrinkled, and tears ran down his cheeks.

Mark and Kevin sniffled. Then, Kevin said, “Do it, Rudy. And, hey, we’ll look for you, too, okay?” The two boys stepped off the concrete slab.

Rudy stood on the slab where they had seen the Ley Lines intersecting. He faced the east. The sun cast his shadow before him. He began to chant.

“It’s a vortex,” Mark said. “Like on that TV show . . .” Rudy turned, waved, and stepped into the vortex. In an instant, he disappeared.

“Are you ready?” Kevin said. He had picked up his backpack, and Mark’s duffle bag.

“Ready?” Mark asked.

“Ready to follow him,” Kevin said.

Mark hesitated only for a moment before he took the duffle bag, and grabbed Kevin’s hand. “As long as you are with me,” he said, and ran with Kevin toward the gate.