Chapter Five
As always, there was no fanfare, nothing to show that the magic had worked. Brian heard and felt nothing except the breaking of the silver chain. But when he opened his eyes, he found a world utterly changed. The kitchen was full of the exact same mess he remembered from last weekend, right down to the spilled beer and cigarettes on the floor. There was no trace of any of the changes he’d made all week. It was almost like he’d stepped back in time.
Brian blinked stupidly, and had a surge of déjà vu so strong that he honestly wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t anymore. He had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He still didn’t believe it and pinched himself again.
After a minute, he noticed that everything wasn’t quite the same as before. The wide-screen TV and the computer he’d bought were still there, and so was anything else he’d purchased with money. It seemed to be only the things he’d directly used the amulet for that had disappeared.
He had a fleeting, idle thought of all that gold he’d made, suddenly turning back into pea gravel in somebody’s bank vault somewhere, and wondered how he could ever sort that out. He sighed and thrust the idea out of his mind; he could deal with that later. Right now the only thing he cared about knowing was whether Brandon was safe or not.
The sudden reappearance of the nasty kitchen, beer puddle and all, gave him a wild hope that Brandon might even be back home already, just like nothing had ever happened. He’d been forced to believe stranger things lately.
He listened, just in case, but the bottom floor was empty and silent as the grave all around him, so Brian quickly ran up the filthy stairs to check the rest of the house.
He opened his bedroom door slowly, hardly daring to hope. Just like the kitchen, everything was exactly as it had always been before he found the amulet. He hadn’t bought anything to put in there; it had all been done directly.
There was a vaguely human-shaped lump under the covers, and Brian crept to the edge of the rumpled bed, trembling. Then he pulled the corner of the blanket down, and found nothing there but a crumpled pillow.
He felt another surge of sickening fear and near-despair, but he refused to give in just yet. He methodically searched the rest of the house until he was certain there was no one else there, and when he was sure, he went back to the kitchen and called his aunt.
She answered on the first ring.
“What is it, Brian?” she asked.
“Is Brandon any better?” he asked immediately, hoping against hope.
“He’s pretty much the same as he was thirty minutes ago,” she said dryly. For a second Brian was startled that so much time had already gone by, but when he glanced at the clock he couldn’t doubt it.
“Okay, sorry to bug you so much,” he said.
“It’s fine; I know you’re worried,” she said.
“So they think he’ll be all right, then?” he insisted hopefully, and she hesitated before answering.
“The doctors are doing everything they can, Brian. That’s all I can say for now. We’ll just have to take it one day at a time and see what happens,” she said. That was a far cry from what he wanted to hear, of course, but he bit his lip and tried to stay calm.
“Okay. Just let me know if anything changes,” he finally said.
“I will. I promise,” she said, and that was that.
After the call, he went back to the kitchen table to wonder what it could all mean. It seemed like breaking the chain had erased everything he’d done with the amulet, but if so then why was Brandon still sick? That part didn’t seem to have changed at all, and Brian told himself he should have known it could never be that easy.
He buried his face in his hands and wallowed in misery for a few minutes, racking his brain desperately for something else he might do, anything at all he could try. He couldn’t bring himself to believe there was nothing to be done, in spite of all the setbacks and failures in the world.
He looked at the amulet again, and for the first time he noticed that the little crack around the back side had popped open just a bit, enough for him to grab the edge with his thumbnail and open it.
This was something new, although Brian was too miserable to let himself hope that it could possibly mean very much.
Still, he couldn’t help but try it. He hooked his thumb nail at the edge of the crack and spread the two halves apart, not sure what to expect.
As it turned out, one side contained something rather like a compass, with a needle that pointed in the same direction whichever way he turned the amulet. The only odd thing about it was that the needle seemed to be pointing northeast instead of north, and no amount of shaking or twisting could convince it to change its mind.
Brian could make little sense of that, but when he turned to the other side he was none the wiser. The back side contained some kind of verse centered across the middle, in the same flowing script he’d seen on the back. It was just as tiny, too.
There was just the barest sliver of hope in that, if the words could tell him anything useful. Brian had nothing else to cling to, so he hauled out the magnifying glass again, and this is what he read:
For the one who loves life more than things,
To whom love is more precious than power,
For the one who has strength of desire,
Who can bear length of days with pure heart,
Come drink, if you will, of the Fountain free-flowing,
At the heart of the world, where wishes come true.
Brian quickly scribbled the words onto a sheet of paper, just in case he couldn’t get the amulet back open again later, wondering all the while what on earth all that could mean. He hardly dared guess or imagine.
He shut the amulet and tried to open it again, just to test the matter, and he found that it wasn’t at all hard to open anymore. That must have changed when he broke the chain, because it had always been impossible to open before.
Then he noticed another oddity. The chain wasn’t broken after all. It was all in one piece, smooth and whole, just like it had always been. That confused him more than anything, because he knew perfectly well that he’d broken it. He’d felt it snap, he’d even heard it.
That was another mystery Brian couldn’t even begin to fathom, but in the meantime he was much more interested in that last line of the poem, the part about wishes coming true.
He wasn’t sure he trusted the amulet anymore after everything he’d seen. He thought of Brandon, still lying there dangerously ill at the hospital, and he remembered the blasted devastation at Black Rock. Maybe he hadn’t been quite as careful as he should have been, true, but still. . . using the amulet was like playing with dynamite. It could do wonderful things, but it could also blow up in your face and kill people, too. He didn’t know if he wanted to take that chance again.
But he also remembered wiping away Brandon’s black eye, and the light and the beauty that had seemed to glisten from every leaf and every blade of grass before the end came, and when he glanced around him at the poor and tattered room he sat in, his heart broke at the memory. In a way, it was worse to have tasted beauty and then have it snatched away, than never to have known it at all. Surely all that couldn’t have been just a trick and a lie, could it? He wasn’t sorry for giving it all up to save Brandon, for life was indeed sweeter than anything in the world, and love was more precious than all his powers. There was no trace of a doubt in his mind about those things, and never would be again. He hadn’t realized how much treasure he really had, until he almost lost it.
But still. . .
He remembered, all too well, the way things used to be. He might have learned a thing or two and found a bit of courage he’d never known before, but the rest of the world had seemingly gone right back to the way it always was. Mama would still be a drunk, and Daddy would still be gone, and Brandon still might die, and he was pretty sure he’d end up having to give all the money back once peo
ple discovered that his gold had turned back into gravel. He might even go to jail for it.
At the very best, nothing would have changed from before. Brandon would come home to the same sad and broken place as always, and life would gradually settle down into the old familiar pattern. There was a time when Brian would have told himself there was nothing better to hope for, but he found that it was hard for him to accept that kind of thinking anymore.
He couldn’t help wondering (just a little) what might happen if he really followed the amulet to the heart of the world and drank from the Fountain. Surely that’s what the compass-thing was for, wasn’t it, to show him the way? Wishes coming true was a pretty strong promise, when you stopped to think about it.
Was he being offered something more than just wealth and power, perhaps? Did he dare to believe that he might, just might, get all those impossible things he really wished for? Might he soften Mama’s heart, and bring Daddy back, and make Brandon really well, and turn home into as beautiful a place as ever he’d tried to make Black Rock to be? It was almost too good to be true.
If Brian had been a different sort of person, perhaps he wouldn’t have had the courage to believe such a thing for a second time. But as it was, hope and fear both nagged at his heart until he was almost torn to pieces inside.
Then again, what did all the rest of it mean, about bearing length of days with a pure heart, and where exactly was the Heart of the World?
Brian swallowed hard, and tried to judge which way the compass was telling him to go. It seemed to point north and a little east, toward the Crystal Range and whatever might lie beyond them, the land of his fantasies and daydreams since childhood. It seemed fitting, in a way, that that was the direction the amulet would tell him to go. But the question of how he was supposed to get there and what he might find when he did; for that he had no answers at all.
He walked slowly to the back door and looked out through the screen at the distant mountains, and beyond them the Heart of the World. Did he dare to believe? For that matter, did he dare not to dare?
He felt very alone at that moment, and unsure what he ought to think or believe, let alone do. His choices so far hadn’t turned out all that well. He would have liked to talk to someone, anyone, but there was nobody he could think of. Mama and Carolyn were out of the question, and somehow he didn’t think Adam or his other new buddies would be much better. He needed a friend, and for the first time in a long time he realized that he didn’t have any.
That only made him feel worse than ever, though. So he took refuge in a chat room on the Internet, that last bastion of lonely souls.
The room was supposed to contain people who wanted to talk about mythology; Brian’s best guess for where he might find some information and not get laughed at for asking such questions. So he posted the verses from the inside of the amulet, asking if anyone had seen them before and what they might mean.
It seemed like a long shot at best, but an hour later he was rewarded with an answer from a girl in Mississippi.
“It reminds me of a story I heard once, about a flowing fountain at the heart of the world, where people could drink from it and stay young and beautiful forever, and have all the wishes of their hearts come true,” she said.
“You mean like the Fountain of Youth?” he typed back, thinking immediately of the diamond-crusted fountain emblazoned on the front of the amulet.
“Sort of like that, I guess. But not just anybody could find it; only the ones who knew the way. The ones who got invited, you might say,” she replied.
“Invited?” he asked.
“Yeah. There was something about having to pass a test of some kind, as to what you’d choose when you really had to; power and wealth, or love. That’s why that verse you posted reminded me of the story,” she said.
“Do you think it’s true?” he asked, not stopping to think how flaky that might sound, even on a mythology forum. She didn’t answer right away, and after a while Brian thought he must really have put his foot in his mouth. But eventually he got his answer.
“I guess I believe there’s nothing too good to be true. If the story isn’t real, then it must be because it’s not good enough to be true, not because it’s too good, and in that case the real truth would be something even better,” she finally said.
Brian pondered that, and couldn’t decide what he thought about it yet. He’d never heard anyone put things quite like that before.
“Do you know the name of that story, or where I could find it?” he asked.
“I don’t remember, but I’m pretty sure you could find it at the library or online, if you searched a little,” she told him.
“Okay, thanks a lot,” he told her, and again she didn’t answer for a few minutes.
“I hope you find it,” she finally said, and for a second he was startled at her words, until he realized she might only be talking about the story, not the Fountain.
Brian knew a little bit about how to search for things online, but not so much that he was able to do it quickly or well. It took him at least two hours to find anything, and the story he finally did locate turned out to be very difficult to read. The language was awfully old-fashioned, full of words and expressions that confused him. Nevertheless, he could puzzle it out if he tried. It was pretty much just like the girl had told him, but still, the story was well worth reading, for it mentioned one small but extremely important detail that the girl had left out.
Maybe she just hadn’t remembered it, or maybe she hadn’t thought it mattered enough to mention, but all the people in the story were led to the Fountain by a guide of some sort, which they were warned never to lose or to part with, lest they never find the way and be lost forever.
That was enough to make a believer out of Brian, for he knew beyond a doubt that the amulet he held in his hands must surely be his very own guide. And that verse inside it, whatever else it might mean, was an invitation to come and drink. It had to be. So he knew the way, and apparently he was invited, if he had the courage to follow through with it.
He thought again about Brandon, and that decided him.
“All right, I’ll come,” he said out loud, and once the decision was made he felt a great weight slide from off his shoulders, and he felt calmer and quieter than he’d felt all day.
He put the amulet safely in his pocket and switched off the computer before trudging upstairs to the attic. His money stash was still there, just as he’d left it, and he took a thousand dollars with him, for whatever he might happen to need. He wasn’t sure what that might turn out to be, but he knew he didn’t want to be broke. On the other hand, he didn’t want to take all the money, either. That was just an invitation to get robbed, or worse.
He left a note for Mama, telling her he’d be back soon. It’d probably infuriate her that he hadn’t asked first, but it might possibly keep her from calling the cops or coming to look for him herself. For a while, at least.
That done, he kick-started the dirt bike and rode it to the store by the crossroads, where he bought some leather gloves and a pair of sunglasses to keep the wind out of his eyes, and also a warmer jacket. The bike wasn’t really made for long-distance riding, and it wasn’t even street-legal for that matter, but since it was all he had it would have to do. He’d just have to be careful and not go too fast, and ride the ditches and back roads as much as he could, unless he could find something better at some point.
He thought about going home and getting a fresh start early in the morning, but then quickly decided that probably wasn’t a good idea. Mama might come home, and that would make things difficult. It was better to go ahead while he still could.
He soon discovered that he couldn’t follow the way the amulet told him to go; not exactly. The road didn’t run quite that way, and the best he could do was to pick the road that seemed like it went in more or less the right direction. His best bet seemed to be the main highway that led into
Glenwood.
He didn’t plan on riding that far until morning; his main goal at the moment was to find somewhere other than home to sleep for the night, so he could avoid Mama if she happened to show up.
After a little while he passed a lonely barn in the middle of nowhere with no houses nearby, and he decided that it looked like an excellent choice. It was getting late, and he was more tired than he would ever have believed possible.
He killed the bike and walked it up the lane to the barn, so as not to make so much noise. The place looked deserted and ramshackle, and a bit spooky if the truth was told, but it must have still been used from time to time, because the loft was full of fresh hay. Brian parked his bike in one of the horse stalls and covered it with a ratty old blanket that he found hanging on a nail. Then he climbed up the ladder into the hay loft and found a place as close to the wall as he could, for the sake of getting a little breeze. The late summer night was still warm.
He kicked off his shoes and curled up in the hay as comfortably as he could to wait for daylight, and in spite of the strange bedding he fell asleep surprisingly quickly.
Nothing disturbed him during the night, and nothing looked down on him except a barn owl returning from the fields near morning. Nor did he dream, except the sweet and simple dreams of the pure at heart, of the kind that nourish the soul but are never remembered.
He woke later the next morning than he usually would have, perhaps because the day before had been so full and difficult. It must have been almost eleven o’clock when he opened his eyes, and he might have slept even longer if a finger of sunlight hadn’t crossed his eyes just then.
He got up and stretched, yawning while he did so. Then he put his socks and shoes on, and made his way down the ladder to where his bike was hidden under the horse blanket.
He consulted the amulet to make sure he was still headed in the right general direction, and checked his map to make sure the road would keep going that way. All seemed to be well, so far.
It was a sunny, breezy day; good biking weather. Still, by the time he came into Glenwood he was beginning to feel cramped and uncomfortable. He wanted very much to get off and stretch his legs for a while.
It was way past noon by then, and Brian felt that it was high time for some food. There was a little convenience store not far from one of the city parks, and on a whim he decided to get some picnic supplies and have his lunch right then and there. He got cheese and bread and Miracle Whip, some smoked turkey breast, a bag of potato chips, and a two liter bottle of sweet tea. Then he went to one of the tables as far from the street as he could, within sight of the Caddo River splashing and glittering in the sunlight, and there he fixed himself a sandwich and some chips and laid them out on a paper towel. He ate slowly, taking time to savor the food and also to enjoy the warmth of the day.
He wondered if anybody would be looking for him at home yet, and somehow doubted it. He probably still had a while before anybody even noticed he was gone, much less cared.
Still, he took the time to call the hospital and talk to Carolyn for a few minutes to check on Brandon. There was still no change, and Brian wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or worried by that news. It sounded good at first, but then again, the longer somebody stayed in bed, not moving or breathing on his own, the worse his chances were. Even Brian knew that much. People got pneumonia after a while, and Brandon had always been worse than most people about that kind of thing. He got chest colds all the time.
Brian told himself not to paint things blacker than they already were, but it made him twice as determined to find the Fountain as soon as possible, before things had a chance to turn bad. One wish would cure everything, and he could never rest easy till it was done.
Beyond telling Brian to go over to her house if he got hungry or needed anything, Carolyn didn’t show much interest in where he was or what he might be doing. So much the better, he thought to himself.
Afterwards he had another sandwich and then got up to stretch his legs a bit, stopping long enough to toss three pennies into the river. The only other person in the park was a girl sitting with her grandmother and tossing bread crumbs to the sparrows. Or at least the grandmother was; the girl seemed more than a little bored. She saw Brian toss the pennies into the water, and smiled at him.
“You won’t get much of a wish for three cents,” she said. They were close enough that she could talk to him without shouting, and he smiled back at her.
“I didn’t know this was such a high-priced river,” he said. It was a mild joke at best, but she laughed.
“Well, no, I guess it’s not. So what did you wish for?” she asked. He knew she was just making idle conversation for the sake of having somebody to talk to, but he didn’t mind.
“I wished I could find the heart of the world,” he said, truthfully. There was no particular reason to keep it a secret; she’d never take him seriously anyway, or even understand what he was talking about. But whatever the girl might have thought about his wish, she never got a chance to answer him.
“Here now, what’s all this talk about the heart of the world?” the grandmother broke in, staring at Brian with the oddest sort of look in her eyes. It was almost a hungry look, he thought, like she wanted to eat him alive. He noticed for the first time that she was uncommonly pretty for an old lady, and for a moment Brian stared back at her, curious. She had on a pair of knitted gray mittens and a matching shawl that looked much too hot for the weather, but then Brian remembered that old people were always cold.
“It’s nothing. I just heard a story once, about a fountain at the heart of the world where wishes come true, and I thought it’d be cool to find it someday, that’s all. It was a silly wish,” he said, apologetically. The girl smiled again when she heard all this, but Brian noticed that the old woman wasn’t smiling at all.
“Who told you about the Fountain?” she asked, still staring at him.
“You’ve heard of it?” he asked eagerly, almost unable to believe it. This time she smiled slightly.
“Oh, indeed I have, child. Indeed I have, long ago. I even drank from it with my own lips,” she declared. The girl glanced at her grandmother with exasperation, and then gave Brian a pained look.
“You have to forgive Granny; her mind isn’t quite what it used to be, I’m afraid,” she apologized in a low voice. Brian was crestfallen, and could barely hide his disappointment.
“Oh, I see. It’s all right,” he said. But the old woman cackled and gave him that hungry look again.
“You have to forgive Janette; she thinks I’m bonkers. But I meant what I said, young man. Come see me, alone, at Pinecrest, room 208, tomorrow, and I’ll tell you the whole story,” she told him.
“Sure, I’d love to,” he said automatically, and Janette gave him another embarrassed look.
“Thanks for humoring her. Come on, Granny, I think it’s about time we headed home,” she said, turning to her grandmother.
“Bonkers. Nobody listens,” the old woman muttered, but she roused herself when her granddaughter stood up and took her hand. Janette never looked back, but the lady gave him one more keen look as she was getting into the car.
Brian wasn’t sure if the old biddy was really crazy or if she might actually know something worth hearing, but he finally decided it couldn’t hurt to wait till tomorrow and go see her. At worst he would have wasted some time, and at best he might find out some things well worth knowing.
But first he had to find out where he was supposed to go. She’d said Pinecrest, room 208, wherever that was. Brian guessed it was a nursing home, but he couldn’t remember hearing of it before. He’d been to Glenwood pretty regularly, but only to go to the grocery store and sometimes a few other places. Other than that, he didn’t know his way around all that well. He’d never needed to.
A quick look at the phone directory gave him the address of Pinecrest Retirement Village, and since the town was fairly small,
it didn’t take him long to find the place. It was a long brick building with three wings and a flat roof, with a bunch of elderly folks sitting on a patio out front. It looked old and run-down and depressing, and choosing a cutesy name like “retirement village” didn’t change the reality of what it was.
But the old lady had said to come see her tomorrow, not today, so there was no point in lingering.
The first thing he had to do in the meantime was to find a place to stay for the night, and he didn’t much feel like sleeping in a barn again. Then he’d see what the morning would bring.