The Place Between Part 7

A long time friend and I had the wonderful opportunity to attend dinner at a lovely young family's home this week. Now that may sound awesome enough of itself, but the dinner was multi-cultural: our lady hosts that we met for the first time, was Russian and her husband was Turkish. (I know that sentence was off gramatically, but bear with me, the caffeine in my coffee has not yet kicked in.) Their little one is a Turkish/Russian American who will likely grow to be trilingual at least. It was a WONDERFUL dinner and we met another couple who were from Tajikistan (I think I could be wrong on that and if so, let me know and I will correct that!). We laughed, had great conversations and an enormous meal. Of course, no one can leave a Turkish household without drinking coffee or tea and we had the marvelous luck to get both. It was great sipping vishna (Turkish word for cherry juice) and eating Russian salad. I feel very blessed to have access to so many different cultures and flavors of life. You, no matter where you are reading this, whether you are on the train tracks in NYC waiting for the Q train to show up, or if you are in El Cajon trying to beat the heat of today, you have access to the global communities that surround you. You just have to find them and make friends. Trust me, it's not hard to have a global experience, or to share your experiences over a cup of tea.

Sipping my own cup of coffee now and ready to present to you this week's edition of The Place Between. If you are new to the Weekly Read and would like to catch up with this story, click here and the begining awaits you:  http://thereadingescape.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-place-between.html

For the rest of you, on with the show! Oh, oops, I mean, story...

The Place Between Part 7

"I no longer believe the coyote is the worst of our problems," with a slow point of his long, bent finger, Edgar pointed out the door through which they came. 

Martin glanced at the camera in the corner of the barn, checking to ensure that the recorder had not yet come to life. Figuring that it was safe enough, Martin made a daring move and walked to where Edgar stood so to see the target of his pointing. It took but a second for Martin to see the imposing threat: four humans striding confidently emerged from the darkness as shadows, heading directly toward the barn.

"Quickly!" Martin did not waste a breath. He grabbed Cassie and together with Edgar they bolted from the barn. The trail down which they had earlier walked was the trail they swiftly took. Their movements were keenly planned, but in their haste, they could not prevent the sounds they made cutting through the tall grass.

"What was that?!" One of the shadows asked, startled by the noise. The four shadows stood still. 

Cassie glanced back, terrified to think that these strangers might start shooting in their direction. A thousand scenes of civillians being shot accidently in zombie shows raced through her mind.

Like common cat burglars on the brink of being caught, Cassie and Martin dropped to the ground. They hid behind a rusted grain thrasher that left much to be wanted as a protective bulwark. 

The shadows that approached stopped abruptly. They too seemed startled by the unnexpected potential others.

Martin whispered something to Cassie, but she was far too occupied by the distraction of fear to have completely comprehended his message.

The people of shadows were speaking to one another. Between the remnants of the rusted muffler and tire, Cassie peered at them. Heart racing, out of breath, shaking from terror and cold, Cassie came to realize that she was lost and alone.

Were these the people determined to undo the enchanted ones? Why was it really such a heinous crime in these days and times to have powers? Would their cause become the next human rights campaign? Would they even be given that chance or had Cassie in the week of her knowing this great and extraordinary of secrets have already blown everything?

"Look!"one of the shadows whispered loudly. His extended arm pointed toward the plain where the small pack of coyotes were running off, startled themselves by the foibles of the two legged ones. 

The shadows regained their stances of confidence and proceeded into the barn where they disappeared. Cassie thought on the cameras. 'Are they on now? Have those guys triggered it? Oh where is Martin and Edgar?' 

No sooner had she said it, a hand slapped over her mouth, nearly stopping her heart.

Edgar quietly shushed the startled teen, assuring her with a soft smile. He pointed over the top of the thrasher. Extending her legs, Cassie half kneeled, half leaned on the thrasher to see over the top. At first she had no idea what she was looking for until she saw Martin and a handful of the sentinels, running carefully toward the barn. "What are they doing?" She mouthed to Edgar. 

Leaning close to her ear, Edgar softly answered, "Checking who is in the barn. If it is the fiends sent to smite us, our people will signal the retreat. If it is someone else...we will find a way to scoot them along."

Cassie locked her eyes on to the barn and within a few seconds a large puff of smoke billowed out. Cassie felt all of her hope for humanity die a little.

"Are they smoking them out?" Edgar asked rhetorically, losing faith in his own people for half a second.

"No," Cassie answered lethargically, "They're just a bunch of potheads."

The unmistakable skunky scent floated over to Cassie and Edgar. Edgar made a face. "Ewe," his droning voice sounded. "Are they imbibing that awful stench?"

Cassie thought Edgar's disgusted ignorance to be endearing. "Kinda," she answered. She really wasn't sure if her first cultural lesson to a citizen of the Place Between should be about the dumb ways youth wasted their money to hide from reality. 

She was not given the chance. 

"Let's go," Martin demanded, sweeping in behind Cassie and Edgar. Clutching onto Cassie's shoulder, Martin tore the girl away on to their hidden trail, ripping off a small piece of her jeans as a victim of the rusted thrasher.

The three of them raced back to the mourning tree's side. Maintaining his grip on Cassie, Martin again raised his wand and the whirling winds began to suck them up. Just before the images of the world surrounding her were blended together in a spinning mass, Cassie saw the group of stoners go running out from the barn, leaving a trail of thick smoke and dust behind. 

Arriving back in the safe keep of the sentinels, Cassie gave her head one minute to recover before shouting out, "What just happened?!"

Martin was already busy giving orders and demands to the sentinels, ranging from retrieving the above ground team as quickly as possible to briefing the president on what just occurred.

"There will be no need for that," the stone voice of the president firmly sounded, bringing the entire room full of working bees to immobile a statues. "I am already fairly aware of the situation."

"Madame President," Martin rushed to the regal woman's side. "There were a group of teens that came by to use the barn for 'recreational' activities."

Not wanting to raise any sort of panic, the president kept her questions to herself for the time being. She looked around the room, she could clearly see that many of her sentinels were missing. She knew that they were up top, clearing any more of the mess that may have been left behind.

"Martin, Edgar, Cassandra," the President's cool in such a strained situation threw chills throughout Cassandra's spine. She was impressed and intimidated all the same. Meeting a president was an enormous situation for a small town, mountain kid. "It seems appropriate that we review the events of tonight that have come to pass. Come with me, please."

~*~*~

Cassandra's eyes had never been wider. The tunnels glowing with a soft blue light opened into a grand and open underground pavilion. There was no way of knowing from sight the extent of the city between earth and damnation, but there was one thing that was for sure: it was beautiful. A true, real city, right here beneath her feet for all of her life. The purple mountain clearly had more to it than anyone could ever believe.

As the team of three followed President Andrea, the awe that filled Cassie about the place around her flowed occasionally to the president herself. Cassie wondered if she would be geeking out less if she were meeting the President of the United States. 'Are you their Minister for Magic?' Cassie wondered, comparing her limited familiarity of witchcraft once more with Harry Potter.  

The president led the men and young lady to her office for a close door meeting.

As soon as the door shut, President Andrea sat at her desk and said, "Martin, this is far worse than what we feared or anticipated."

Martin was taken aback by the president's grim frankness. "I don't understand, "Martin started. "They were just a couple of kids. They were scared white by the start we gave them. We didn't harm them - we just made it look like a pack of coyotes were coming in after them. They are not likely to return."

The president sat motionless a long while. Her lack of action only increased the uncomfortable feeling in the room. Eventually, the president shifted then said, "At first glance that may have been true, but," she waved her hand and drew up a smoke screen with the image of what the teens left behind. 

"A ouija board?" Cassie stared at the wall of smoke that she assumed to have some sort of projector generating the source of the image. It did not dawn on her that the image was produced by magic. The image of the game did not seem like a big deal at all, but Cassie decided that now was not the best time to ask short questions. 

"It's just a child's game," Martin tried to assuage the fears of the president, but he knew as well as her the risks. "Surely it is no longer believed to be a tool of dark sorcery."

All three adults looked to Cassie. This was why she was here. These critical insights into the world beyond  their own.

Cassie had seen enough paranormal shows to know that ouija boards could open doors into dangerous voids. A memory from last semester at school came to mind. Her and her friends in band were messing around with a ouija board in the backroom of band class where the larger instruments were kept. Using their cell phones for light, it was very dark within the long closet. The giggles that always started with such a game and the accusations of "stop moving it" were running rampant, but they began to wind down once the planchette started to move on its own. It had almost finished spelling "vigilence" when from above them a scurrying noise rang out. All of them went bolting out from the room screaming, and laughing, merrily interrupting guitar class. But that was it, the "door" had been left open and nothing bad had happened to them. The scurrying in the attic was nothing more than a mouse. It really was just a game. Cassie's first instinct was to shrug off the paranoia, to give a simple answer, but Cassie knew that a quick easy response was not the correct answer. "For kids it is a game. Even I've messed around with them, but I do know that people do still use ouija to try to talk or communicate with ghosts, spirits. I'm sure that there are a lot of people out there that see ouija boards as something to fear." 

Contemplating the answer for a moment, at long while the president nodded and said, "What started as a harmless game for spiritualists has now become a threat to us. Many of our kind and yours have been condemned throughout the ages for trying to communicate between worlds. Our people have avoided those boards for a century. No light may be drawn from those ghastly letters for us." The president waved her hand, dismissing the smoke screen.

For Cassie, she watched the smoke dissipate with but one word on her mind: "vigilance."

Edgar took a step forward and asked the president, "Is it too late for us to remove the board?"

The president answered, "The eyes awoke the moment those young fools stepped on to the land above our heads. Their activities, the laying out of the board, and the abandonment of the board are all being reviewed right now by the authorities. I think it's safe to say for us to believe that the authorities will assume the board was left for us." Though the sentinels had responded diligently to dismissing the young intruders, had they merely let the teens be, the game would have been played, it would have been taken back and not abandoned in a fit of fear. "We will see what comes," the president warned. "And they will come. Their paranoia rivals ours, which is why your role here is so important, Cassandra." 

Cassie was caught entirely off guard by this statement, mostly that a president would know her name. "Me? Why?"

Standing from her desk the president walked over to Cassie, placed her hands motherly on the teen's shoulders and said, "because you can help keep us from becoming them."

~*~*~

Will Cassie be vigilant and help prevent a possible genocide? Will the people of the Place Between be discovered? Find out next week on The Weekly Read!

Your humble author,

S. Faxon