Robert Rowen pulled his red Corvette into the driveway. Home was a large split-level house fashioned with brick and siding. It was nestled in a quiet residential neighborhood, and for that, he was profoundly grateful. He guided his car into the garage, sighed, and then turned off the ignition. It had been a very long day at the office. He was tired.
He was only thirty-three, but he felt as if he were fifty. His massive six foot seven inch frame was well muscled, and he made certain he kept fit. His sandy blond hair was already beginning to show some signs of early gray.
Some days the mileage is definitely starting to show.
Thankfully, it was Friday, and that made things a little more relaxed, but only slightly, given his promise to Anna. He still had to go over the contract for P&B with his partner in the firm, but Adam and that forsaken mess could wait until Monday morning. He had promised Anna that he wouldn't miss her softball game this time, and if there was one thing he tried hard to avoid, it was disappointing his daughter.
He was forced to admit that he had done that far too often lately. He had promised his wife that when they moved here six years ago, that he would have more time, for her, and especially for Anna. The last three weeks had conspired to make a hypocrite out of him, and he hated it.
As the only lawyer in the area with any experience in corporate law, he had been practically blackmailed by an old friend into handling it for the county, whether he liked it or not. The contract negotiations had drug out to the last minute, and then both sides refused any form of common sense. That wasn't unexpected. When he used to handle these kinds of cases every day, and he was tested, he just loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and waited them out. Normally, his size and dour expression made everyone extremely uncomfortable. Adam referred to it only half jokingly as his "madman" expression. Often, the other side would rather cave in than sit in the same room with an angry giant. When Adam tried asking where he had learned to do that, he only responded that he had seen far worse "monsters" than those in the courtroom or at the mediation table.
This time, he had to leave the room for a moment to get his legendary temper back under control.
He was finally home, and all he wanted was to spend some time with Terri and Anna. He grabbed his briefcase, and folded his jacket over the left arm. He shoved the door of the car shut, and then walked toward the front door.
The summer sun had heated the cobblestone walk like a griddle, and there wasn't a single cloud in the blue expanse overhead. It was a perfect summer day, and the breeze carried the scent of the flowerbeds to him. Terri always devotedly tended the patches of honeysuckle, iris, and a dozen other flowers that bordered the walkway. He breathed deeply. The scents were a little cloying, but it helped him relax. He never understood how she ever managed to make them grow. He had not even the slightest understanding of gardening, but his wife seemed to just coax them from the earth with that smile of hers.
No one was home yet, so he set down his case, and began looking for the right key. The phone in the kitchen began to ring.
Damn it.
He flipped through the keys faster, and then slid the key into the lock and turned it. Leaving his case on the steps, he sprinted though the kitchen, and grabbed the phone.
"Hello?"
It was a telemarketer. He slapped the phone into the cradle, and retrieved his briefcase. It was then that he noticed the date on the small calendar that Terri kept next to the telephone.
June 17th.
He had been so busy with family and work, he hadn't remembered the date this morning, for the first time in years. Guilt surged through him. He dropped the case, and flung his car keys onto the counter angrily with a flick of his wrist.
June 17th!
He removed his tie, and dropped it on the table. Then he went to the cabinet, and reached for a bottle he kept high out of reach.
When Terri and Anna came home a half an hour later, he still had the same glass in front of him. He had poured himself a double, but hadn't touched it. When Terri saw him, she paused, knowing what was bothering him.
"Why don't you go play over at Nancy's, Anna? Your Dad and I need to talk for awhile."
"Okay, Mom," she said, a little too quickly, dropping her backpack on one of the kitchen chairs next to him. Anna smiled at him.
She had Terri's raven hair, and his own deep blue eyes. Fortunately, she had her mother's good sense, and none of his temper. Terri fervently denied ever having her sunny disposition, and he certainly never had one. He suspected she inherited that from his grandmother...as had his sister. Anna kissed him quickly on the cheek.
"I love you, Daddy."
Then she darted out the door before he could answer.
"Are you going to be all right, Bobby?" Terri asked him quietly, sitting down in the free chair on his left. She placed her hand over his.
Terri had known him since they were children. They had always been very close, as if fate planned for them to be together. In fact, it seemed to have gone well out of its way to guarantee it. He looked at her now.
Unlike his own early gray, her hair was still as black as midnight, and her blue eyes still had that look he could never escape. That strangely warm, but knowing gaze had always been there, even on the first day they met. Despite growing up, getting jobs, being married, and having a daughter, she had changed little. She still looked younger than she actually was, and as always, she seemed to see right through him.
"No, not really," he admitted, finally taking a sip of bourbon. "I'd almost forgotten, Terri. I just happened to glance at the calendar when I got home."
"You have to let her go. It wasn't your fault, and you can't keep beating yourself up every time June 17th comes around."
He had always been a hothead. He tended to explode now and again, as Adam could testify to on stack of Bibles. He wished he could now, and release the anger that was boiling beneath the surface. He looked at his wife irritably. He wanted to be angry. She knew what day it was, but hadn't said a word when he left this morning. He wanted to be furious, but he could never keep his anger with her or particularly Anna. They just seemed to melt it away.
Terri hadn't said anything, because he knew she hoped that this would happen someday. She was hoping that he would forget, because he had to move on. She was right again, as usual.
"I know," he said squeezing her hand. "But knowing doesn't make it any easier to do. I can't forget, and I still miss her."
He gave up the glass, and Terri set it aside, to pour down the sink later. He didn't need alcohol to be miserable, and Terri hated it without reserve. He even managed to make it into the living room this time, before he broke down weeping.
The edges of the gray stone slabs crumbled beneath the weight of their steps as Bobby and the others walked the length of the ancient promenade. They had been searching the decaying ruins for the last three days. Elves had walked here a thousand years ago, but now the forest had reclaimed most of their once magnificent city. Time and the elements worked steadily on what was left, until there were only shattered, broken walls and sections of the streets. Even these would eventually be swallowed by nature, until no one would know that anyone had ever been here.
Suddenly, Bobby spotted it and whooped out loud.
"Over here!"
The portal floated in midair, a shimmering plane of translucent mist, a few inches from the surface of the gray stone. It began to shimmer brightly, rippling like a pool of water, as if in greeting to his approach. The often wished for amusement park, that had occupied their dreams of home for the past five years, appeared within.
The others came rushing over in response to his calls, and stared. They stood there for a moment, not believing that this time would be any different than the myriad of times that they had tried, and failed, to get home. But nothing happened. No one screamed for help, and the evil sorcerer, Venger, was nowhere to be seen.
They waited, listening to the sounds of the wind passing through the dark green leaves of the verdant forest. Birdsong greeted their ears, and the spring breeze carried the early scent of wildflowers. The suns cast bright shafts through the treetops to warm the stones below.
In spite of five long years, they all looked much the same as they had on that first day that they discovered that they were trapped in the Realm. 'Much the same' didn't really cover it. 'Unchanged' would be closer to the truth.
His sister, Sheila, was now twenty-one, but she was indistinguishable from any other teenager of sixteen. Bobby himself was fourteen, but looked exactly as he had at nine. It was the same for their four friends: Hank, Eric, Diana, and Presto. It was as if they had stopped aging altogether the moment they had become castaways in this strange world.
Sheila pulled Hank close, her face wet with tears of joy. The blond ranger smiled, and returned her embrace. Bobby grimaced, and muttered, "Mushy." In fact, his annoyance was more for show, than a genuine feeling. He had decided long ago that he liked the idea of Hank and his sister as a couple.
There wasn't another person Bobby respected more than Hank, and now Hank had kept his promise. They were going home. Hank and Sheila had been slowly drifting apart. Perhaps now, they would have a chance to patch things up. Hank was the only one Bobby trusted to care for his sister as much as himself.
Once they were home, maybe Sheila could even stop fussing over him. Somehow, he doubted that. He could, and had, faced down dragons, but nothing ever seemed to convince his gentle red haired sister that he could take care of himself.
Diana was smiling.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Eric demanded. "Let's go." He emphasized the last word expansively. "After you, my lady," he told Diana, bowing.
Eric's attitude was still the same. He had a silver spool shoved up his nether regions, and sarcasm was still only a breath away. Bobby was sure now, though, that his attitude was more of an act than real. Sheila had taken the time to explain it once, but it had taken five long years before Bobby himself was convinced. Eric's attitude toward Diana though, had warmed considerably. Bobby suspected that he liked the dark skinned gold medal gymnast, turned acrobat, but Eric never admitted it outright. Still, she meant he was a little easier to deal with, but not much.
Diana gave him a momentary look of annoyance, but turned her head to smile over her shoulder as she stepped through. She reappeared on the other side, dressed in her long forgotten jeans, and summer tee. When the others paused in amazement at her, Eric simply shrugged melodramatically and followed her example.
Only Presto had remained completely impassive the entire time. He still resembled the proverbial nerd, with his thin frame, bottlecap glasses, and shock of unruly brown hair. If the Realm had done anyone a favor, it was Presto. He wasn't the timid person he had been, when they first met. Even Bobby had grudgingly decided he wasn't a wimp after all.
Hank grinned.
"You're up, Presto."
The smiled faded when he saw the look on Presto's face.
"No, Hank. I'm not going back with you," Presto answered. "I'm staying here."
Hank recoiled. "What?" he demanded.
Bobby just stared at Presto, and Sheila looked downcast.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm staying."
When no response came, Presto sighed tiredly. "Hank, you know I'm an orphan." He turned to include all of them in his gaze. "Except for you all, these past five years, I don't have any family. There isn't anyone or anything to go back to. Varla is here."
Then Presto did something he seldom ever did. Rather than looking down, he looked Hank straight in the eyes. He was serious!
"I love her, Hank. I know she is waiting for me. I can feel it, just as I can feel her presence. I've had time to consider all of this. I'm staying, and you can't change my mind. Now, please, get out of here."
Hank started to speak, but Sheila moved forward and embraced Presto in a tight hug, cutting off whatever Hank was going to say. Her eyes and cheeks were wet with tears, but she was smiling.
"Are you sure, Albert?" she asked quietly. Presto had smiled back at Sheila then. She had always been more than just a friend to him. She was the sister Presto never had. Sheila was the only one of them who ever used his real name, and usually only when she wanted to be certain she had his attention.
"Yes, I'm sure. More sure than I've ever been."
"I thought you might say that," she said, as if she had expected this. Sheila hadn't seemed surprised. "We'll miss you. Take good care of yourself."
She kissed him lightly on the cheek, and squeezed her hug a little tighter before stepping back and wiping her eyes. Hank stepped forward, and placed his hand on Presto's shoulder.
"Good luck," was all he said.
Bobby had a distinct distaste for this emotional turn of events, and had fiddled with his helmet to hide his expression. "See ya, pal."
Presto grinned at Bobby then, and vanished in a flash.
Sheila's hands went to her mouth in surprise, stepping over to examine the empty space where Presto had been standing. Hank chuckled quietly. Presto had tried to show them a disappearing act when they first met. It was a disaster. He finally got it right.
Bobby watched as Sheila turned to him. The world seemed to wash out into shades of gray. Bobby glanced away as a bright light blinded him.
"No!"
The sound of his voice seemed to echo slowly. No one heard him as he screamed.
Then the ground exploded right next to Sheila, flinging her into the air. She landed several feet away, as the blast showered the area with gouged earth and debris from the ancient stonework. Bobby had to squint his eyes clear of the dust, but he watched every detail, frozen, unable to move, as if time had slowed to a near stop.
His sister was covered in fine powder, blasted from the stone. He watched as she tried to get up, and screamed. Her emerald eyes seemed to stand out from a face smeared with streaks of gray. Her expression was etched with fear and pain. She somehow managed to rise on her right knee, but her left leg was twisted in at an inhuman angle.
"Bobby! Run!" She yelled to him desperately.
The second blast of white fire grazed her left side. Bobby watched in horror as even that slight contact seemed to melt her, burning away her dress and blackening the pale skin beneath, before the force of even that partial impact spun her over on to her back. The ball of flame continued past her before slamming into a ruined wall. It groaned as it tottered ponderously, and then collapsed on top of her, blanketing the area in another cloud of gray dust.
"SHEILA!" he heard his own voice screaming.
He heard Hank's magical bow fire two golden bolts of energy, and a scream of inhuman rage echoed from above. The sorcerer could deflect Hank's arrows harmlessly with just his bare hands. His mount couldn't.
Bobby was only vaguely aware of Venger's dark winged mount as it suddenly plummeted, plowing into the ground.
Then Hank was rushing past Bobby to the pile of rubble. Time seemed to snap back into focus, and then he and Hank were flinging aside as much of the debris as he could. He knew they found her only minutes later, but it seemed like an eternity. They managed to uncover her, but she was still pinned beneath the unstable pile of shattered stone from the waist down. Bobby was going to try to bat them aside with his own weapon, a club, but Hank grabbed his arm.
"No!" Hank screamed at him, "That will bring them all down on top of her."
Hank gingerly knelt next to her. Her arms had deep cuts where she had tried to protect her face. There was a nasty gash on her right cheek that was bleeding badly. She was still breathing, but it sounded hollow.
Hank's hands were balled into fists, the knuckles white. But there wasn't anything either of them could think to do, unless they could somehow get her out from under the rubble and through the portal to a hospital. The pile was already unstable. If they tried anything more, it was likely to bring the rest down, crushing her below the waist – or worse. Bobby couldn't bear to look at the charred ruins of his sister's left side. For the first time in his life, he felt truly helpless.
Sheila opened her eyes slowly, and they were alight with pain. Somehow, she smiled at him.
"Hank, Bobby. You have to go, and you have to go now," she said.
Bobby shook his head. "No."
"You two mean all the world to me. We both know you can't beat Venger alone. He is still coming. You have to leave me behind. You can't help me, not this time."
"I'm not leaving you!" Bobby growled.
Somehow, she seemed to gather the strength to answer his defiance.
"Robert, don't you dare argue!"
Oh, god. She sounded exactly like Mom.
The effort seemed to drain her, and her eyes blinked. She coughed harshly. When she continued her voice was even weaker and shaky.
"Bobby, please..." Sheila's eyes squeezed shut in pain. Bobby heard a grinding sound, as the pile shifted. She screamed in protest.
"Go," she begged him, "for me." She groaned, her jaw set. "They can't – lose – us – both..."
"No," he repeated again.
"Get him out of here, Hank."
Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Get him home. Take care of him ...for me..."
She had always been there, looking out for him, and taking care of all of them. The one certainty of his life was that Sheila was always there. He barely registered what followed.
Her eyes squeezed shut again. She coughed again, and her entire body spasmed. It shook her slender frame violently. When she opened her eyes again, she was looking past both them in fear.
Hank suddenly grabbed him by his harness, and shoved him away, as a new blast toppled the already unstable pile to one side. He was picked up completely, his club taken out of his hands, and hauled away from his sister toward the portal.
"Let me go!" he screamed.
He kicked, and fought the entire distance to the portal.
Ignoring Sheila entirely, the sorcerer focused on them. Bobby barely noticed another deadly salvo of magic that Hank somehow managed to dodge. All that he saw was the distance between himself and his sister increase.
"There is no escape for you," Venger purred. A sadistic smile crossed the sorcerer's face.
Hank ignored him, stumbling from another near miss. Bobby felt himself being tossed into the portal, and grabbed Hank's tunic, refusing to go without her. Bobby watched as Hank glanced back toward Sheila at the last instant, and made a terrible choice.
"Stop!" Venger howled.
Venger lobbed a huge mass of white flame toward them with both hands. Hank plunged through the portal, taking Bobby with him.
He bolted upright in bed, shaking.
The same nightmares.
Sometimes they didn't bother him for several months at a time, and then other times they returned to haunt him for weeks. He stilled himself, and then gently climbed out of bed. Terri was still sleeping, and he didn't want to wake her. While her very presence helped to restore him, there was little that even she could do to banish the ghosts that the memories of his sister brought up over the last twenty five years.
He stood for a moment, watching the red numerals of the digital clock on the nightstand change to 11:45 pm. He could hear Terri's breathing as she was slept soundly. He quietly left their bedroom, and entered the hall. As he made his way toward the stairway, he paused.
He poked his head into Anna's room as quietly as he could manage. He watched her sleeping so peacefully for a moment, before smiling sadly to himself. Sheila would have adored Anna. It was another bitter sorrow that Anna would never meet her aunt. They were so much alike, seeing the sunny side of life, even when things were bleak. He wished his daughter the most pleasant of dreams, and then headed back toward the staircase.
The house, and the entire world seemed forlorn and empty at night when Terri and Anna were sleeping, and he was alone. It wasn't too often that he wandered to the kitchen in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, but it wasn't unheard of. Especially on this particular night of the year.
He went down the stairs as silently as a shadow. He realized he needn't have worried. He could hear the first grumblings of a summer thunderstorm. Soon, it would gather, and the rain would cover almost any sound he could make on the old staircase as he descended.
He turned left into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. He examined the contents for a moment. Tuna salad, tatertot hotdish, leftover pizza... He found the milk. Taking it in one hand, he closed the refrigerator door, and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. He filled it, returned the milk to its proper place, and sat down at the table.
It had taken a long time to forgive Hank for pulling him away from his sister as she had lain there, pinned under the rubble, dying, and even longer for him to let Sheila herself finally rest. Eventually, he just wasn't able to hold on to her anymore. Time had chipped away at his stubborn resolve.
The memories of Sheila together with himself and their parents as a family had long since been washed away. Finally, even her face had began to fade, and he had to look at old photos to remember details. All he had left was the love he felt for her, and few incomplete memories of the seemingly many times her actions, words, warm eyes, and bright smiles told him that she had always felt the same.
It reminded him with a bitter certainty that a vital part of his childhood, of his very life, had been ripped from him without mercy.
Now, while his dreams and heart tormented him, time was slowly stealing away all he had left of her.
He wasn't the only one.
Hank had wandered through his life aimlessly in the years since. With her gone, something vital in his friend seemed broken beyond repair. Bobby's own anger toward Hank made matters worse, until he started to avoid Bobby. Hank kept that distance for years, but Bobby suspected he was nearby, looking after him, regardless. Hank always seemed suddenly to be there when he was most needed. Just as quickly, he would retreat, before Bobby could question him.
It was his way of keeping Sheila's last request.
After almost ten years of constantly avoiding each other, Terri was the one who forced them to tear down that insurmountable wall they had created in the wake of Sheila's death. She refused to let Bobby or Hank leave until they had spoken to each other. If Bobby wouldn't talk to Hank, she had said, then he needn't bother talking to her again either. Hank looked just as surprised when he heard the ultimatum, but acquiesced. The conversation shortly became angry and loud, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.
Bobby finally realized that they both felt the same way. They both felt guilty about his sister's death. They both finally admitted that nothing they could have done would have saved her. The last ten years of avoiding each other, hiding the pain, it was all for nothing. Terri knew Bobby had valued Hank's friendship when he was young, and the loss of his childhood mentor and friend was always eating at him.
When Bobby later demanded to know why she had insisted, she simply looked at him as if he had asked the most obvious question in the world.
'Because I love you, you idiot!' she had told him, 'And I'll do whatever it takes, because I do.'
From that moment on, he could never stay angry with her for long, no matter how hard he tried. All that she had to do was give him that look. Terri wanted to help him, no matter what it cost her. Even if it tore her apart. She loved him, more than her own life. Of that, he had never been more certain.
Bobby realized later that Terri had forced the issue not just for himself, but for Hank as well. Hank seemed to finally let go of Sheila's memory. He married Nora Winford three years later. Now that that chapter of their lives had finally been closed, Bobby, in turn, had asked Terri to marry him, just a few days after Hank's wedding. He knew she was waiting for him to ask, and that there would never be anyone else.
Bobby watched as lightning began to illuminate the kitchen in bursts, giving everything a nightmarish aspect. Suddenly, he realized he wasn't alone.
For just an instant, he was sure that someone was in the room with him. He shook off the feeling. Unwanted memories and the lack of sleep were playing tricks on his already tired mind. He drank the last swallow of milk from the glass, rinsed it, and placed it in the sink. He glanced at the clock on the microwave as he left the kitchen to head back upstairs.
11:59 pm.
He needed to get some sleep. Anna's softball game was tomorrow, assuming the field wasn't washed out. He was almost to the top of the stairs, when the feeling of being watched returned, stronger than ever. He stalked back to the bedroom, deliberately ignoring what he was certain was a nervous residue of a bad night.
He later wished that he hadn't ignored it.
As he entered the bedroom, Terri was wide awake. Her eyes were wide and frightened.
Then he saw it.
In one corner of the room, the world seemed be flowing together, blending into a swirling vortex of colors. The same vortex that had pulled him, Sheila, and their friends away from Earth to the Realm, years ago. The vortex that had stolen everything from him: his childhood, his family...
No!
He darted to the bed, and grabbed Terri by the arm. He pulled her to him, dragging her bodily off of the bed to her feet. His only thought was to get her and Anna as far away from the vortex as fast as he could.
Before he and Terri made it halfway to the bedroom door, the room was filled with a hurricane of wind. The door slammed shut.
