Now Live
Part 3: Invasion of the Pneua Hunter
Gaisrah had been traveling in search of the remaining Pneua for many years; traversing the stars in his personal craft, and keeping alert for any sign of artificial life, which always meant that a pneua was nearby.
Gaisrah's people; the Eltara were the only creatures in the universe that had devised a means of splitting and enslaving the Pneua completely. Once a Pneua was split, it could still be used to bring things to life, but none of the things that it brought to life had any strong will of their own. Using this method, the Eltara had captured one Pneua after another, enslaving them permanently, and creating the race of artificial living beings that did all of their most dangerous or strenuous work for them. Biological beings, of course, were simple enough for the Eltara to turn into slave-races as well, but it was the Pneua, and the unpredictability of its new life forms that they were really concerned with.
The Eltara high command had eventually decided that only through the complete enslavement of every last Pneua could their final victory over the sub-beings be assured. The rest would take time, but their victory was inevitable. No creature in the universe could oppose Eltara technology, except some of those created by the Pneua.
It was for that reason that the high command had offered enormous bounties for any Pneua that could be successfully captured and returned to their homeworld, and it was the promise of earning such a bounty that had driven Gaisrah so far from his own home. He'd captured five of the Pneua already, and had become one of the wealthiest members of his species, as well as one of the most influential, outside of the high command itself, but no matter how much money he had, a great deal more was always tempting; especially since he was many light years from his home, and it would take him some time to return there. He wanted to have enough left over that he could live comfortably for the rest of his days.
There had been no question about the Pneua. It had been on the renegade sub-being ship. His sensors had detected it there. However, when he'd caught up with the vessel, he'd discovered in dismay that the Pneua was gone.
His next move had been to scan all the surrounding space in a wide area, sure that the renegades had ejected it into space in some direction, but he'd lost track of it completely and hadn't been able to locate it. For a while, he'd actually been convinced that it must have been destroyed, though he'd never heard of anything capable of doing that, until he finally noticed a signal on his instruments. It had been over two years that he'd spent searching for the Pneua, and suddenly, he'd discovered its location on a tiny planet in the midst of a nearby, out-of-the-way star system, and its power readings were even greater than they'd been before. He couldn't tell why that was. All he could think was that it must be inhabiting some very powerful machine.
However, Gaisrah's surprise had been immense when he'd discovered that the planet beneath him had only very primitive machinery, and not even any advanced computers or means of traveling in space as far as he could tell. Still, the signal continued growing stronger, and he was determined to get that Pneua back.
Soon, his craft had begun its rapid descent into the planet's atmosphere; its power batteries recharging themselves with the intense heat that was building up around the craft as it descended. At last, he'd come within sight of a large settlement of some kind, and pressed the button to rotate the jets on his craft, slowing his descent just a bit. Then, in a moment, as his vessel changed shape, there was an enormous jolt, and his machine struck the ground below like a meteor, plowing through at least two large buildings and five small ones, until it finally came to a stop in the side of a hill. That, however, hadn't been a disastrous crash for his craft. In fact, it had been more or less how he'd intended to land. In a second, his ship's rockets had retracted into the main body of the ship, and four long legs had emerged from the bottom. The jets would come out again when he was ready to return to space, but in the meantime, he didn't want to waste any more fuel than he had to.
Gaisrah's weapons had rotated quickly around the sides of his ship, until they were aimed almost directly sideways. The ship, by that point, stood twenty feet tall, and was at least as wide. It was round in the center, with four thick legs, each of which had some form of disc on the bottom, for attaching to the ground, and six large gun barrels protruded from the sides of the vessel. However, his ship was even more dangerous than it looked.
Gaisrah had been continuing to scan for the Pneua as his ship had shifted into its new configuration, and he could see that it was very near, though he couldn't be certain where it was precisely. Swiftly, he turned on his audio detection device and activated his ship's learning computer, giving his computer the chance to learn whatever languages were being spoken by a large enough number of people on that world. However, even before it was finished processing that information, he decided that there were other forms of communication that might convey his initial intent just as well, and perhaps even scare the Pneua out of hiding.
In just a moment, he'd activated one of his guns, and soon, it was firing rapidly into the air, and making a noise so loud, that it must have been audible for miles.
The moment that the rapid chain of explosions had sounded, and the windows of Christopher's house had exploded inward, Mr. Robin had grabbed both he and his mother and rushed them to the door.
"Alan, what's going on?!" Mrs. Robin almost shrieked in horror as Mr. Robin shoved her coat into her hands and grabbed Christopher's as well.
"It's an artillery barrage." he said, his voice like ice as he spoke, "We heard them too often in the war, but I've never heard of one firing that fast before. That probably means there are more than one, and they're firing in sequence. Get your coats on and try to stay out of sight. We've got to get away from here. Now, Christopher!"
By that point, Christopher had realized that trying to tell his parents any more was a lost cause, but he was still so stunned by what was happening, and by the suddenness of it, that he'd barely been moving at all. When his father had shouted to him, he'd grabbed his jacket quickly, and soon found himself being rushed out the door along with his mother. However, the moment that he got outside, he could see the monstrosity that had caused all that damage and noise.
It was a metal device, walking on four legs, and there were what looked like guns coming out of its sides. Also, Christopher could have sworn that he saw something like claws emerging from the lower sides of it as well, with long spikes in the middle, and he was sure that everyone else could see it too.
Swiftly, Mr. Robin urged Christopher on, up into the hills behind their house. They were moving fast, but trying to stoop as low as possible, to avoid being seen by the machine as it moved into town, smashing and shooting. Indeed, it was only a matter of time before others began to join the Robins in their escape attempt. Soon, five other families had joined them in their journey up the hill, then ten, then fifteen. At last, everyone was traveling together, trying to retreat in roughly the same direction, and with so many people climbing into the hills together, it was easy for one person to get lost.
Many of Christopher's friends were there, looking dirty and cold; terrified of what was going on, and he couldn't have comforted them, because he didn't understand it any more than they did. Then he saw that several of the people there were injured, with an arm here or there, hanging, or a wounded eye, or something else. Everything about it terrified Christopher, since it was an environment that he'd been shying away from his whole life; an environment that he hadn't even wanted to be told stories of, even though his father would have willingly provided them. For the first time, Christopher Robin was seeing true suffering, and the aftermath of a violent attack.
Soon, Toby had run up to Christopher, looking desperate and afraid, just like they all felt, though he didn't seem to be wounded.
"Christopher!" Toby hissed, pulling him aside for a moment, and for a little while, his parents didn't even seem to notice, "Can't you do something?!"
"Like what?" Christopher asked, feeling utterly helpless, "I can't stop artillery shells with my hands!"
"But you're different than us! You can do things we can't. Please, you've got to do something!"
Christopher wanted to be brave in that moment. He wanted it a lot. He especially wanted it because he knew that the book was still back at his house; that he hadn't had time to get it, and that it still had all his friends inside. Christopher had no sure way to know what would happen to them if the book perished, but he knew that he'd probably never see them again.
However, as they moved out further into the hills, he began to notice something else. Peeking right out from his hiding place behind one of the hills, he realized that the machine was headed in their direction, and that it had been doing so for a while.
Quickly, Christopher tried to lead Toby to the next hill, and looked back towards the machine from there, but much to his dismay, it still seemed to be headed in his direction. He ran on and on, past several more hills after that, but every time he looked back, the machine still seemed to be facing him, even once he'd gotten a good distance from all the others. That was when Christopher Robin began to realize the truth.
He still had no idea what that monster was, where it came from or really, what it wanted, but for some reason, it was after him, and him alone. It didn't even seem to care about anyone else.
That was perhaps the worst moment that Christopher Robin had ever faced, up to that point, because he knew what he had to do, but he was still so scared, that he could hardly move. For several seconds, Christopher just hid behind the hillside, with Toby behind him, watching the machine drawing closer and closer, and trying to think of something; anything that might give him the courage to take action.
Christopher dug and dug into his memories, trying to think of something to motivate himself, and at last, in a flash, he remembered something that his father had told him when he'd been much younger.
"Yes, Christopher. I certainly was terrified, but what you've got to understand is that when you're a grown man, and especially if you're in a war, you can't afford to give in when you're afraid. You've got to stand up to your fears and face them, because if you don't, someone might die; perhaps even someone you know."
The monster was following Christopher and endangering his friends, and he still wasn't sure what he could do about it, if anything. Still, he knew that running away was only going to get more people hurt, and that whether he understood it or not, that assault was all about him. As terrified as he was, Christopher knew that he had to start ignoring his fears, and try to make choices based on what needed to be done. That much, at least, seemed to be obvious, though actually doing it would be the hard part.
"Toby," Christopher said at last, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment, "Go back to where the others are. You should be safe there. That machine only seems to be looking for me."
Toby looked worried by those words for a moment, as if he wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to obey them or not, but at last, he took a few steps backward and then scrambled off towards the others.
Finally, Christopher ran out from behind the hill that had hidden him a moment before, and started off back towards his house, desperately hoping to be able to reach it before the machine could. He continued to hear the noise of the monstrous device firing as he found the back door of his house, pulled it open and rushed inside. Soon, over the sound of the huge weapon's footsteps, Christopher had rushed up to his room and was seizing his bag, emptying it out and putting new things into it. A letter book and his pen, as well as a fresh supply of ink and finally, the Hundred Acre Wood book. At last, he'd got them all into his bag, then done up the ropes that closed the bag, and tied them into two large loops, which he'd slung over his shoulders just a moment later, to give himself the freedom to move. However, he hadn't even gotten the second loop on his left shoulder yet, when a huge claw tore through the wall of his room, ripping right through the wood as though it were made of paper.
Christopher screamed and ducked as wood flew over his head. He wondered if his parents had noticed that he was gone, or whether they'd ever find out what had happened to him, and for a moment, he froze up again, but fortunately, only for a moment.
By that point, there was the sound of an explosion from further down, and Christopher found that the floor of his room was started to tilt towards the ground and break apart in sections, even as the huge machine seemed to be moving on. As the section of the floor that he was on fell, he quickly braced his feet against it, jumping to another, and then a third. All of that time spent exploring the woods with his friends had been very helpful, in the end, since in running, jumping and climbing, Christopher Robin was no slouch.
At last, he felt one of his feet land on a rock, and the other one fell about a foot further down. However, that was when he realized in amazement that he was on the ground. He'd managed to survive the destruction of his room, and was safely on solid ground again, and that was when somethng inside of him changed forever.
Christopher Robin was still only nine at that point, but he'd already done things that most people hadn't done by the time they'd reached one hundred. He'd jumped across wet rocks to get across rivers, climbed tall trees to watch the stars, explored dark caves, slid down mud-covered hills after a rainy day, rescued friends from being blown away by powerful winds, and seen them attempt to become airborn in order to retrieve honey from the nests of bees, and in the end, he'd descended from a collapsing second floor by jumping across a series of falling pieces of debris. He'd seen his home smashed, and his friends put in danger, and something about all that had made him realize that he'd become a young man. He wasn't under the protection of his parents anymore. Indeed, they were the ones who needed his protection, if only he could think of some way to provide it.
As he stood up among the rubble, and the giant machine seemed to notice him, and rotate in his direction from no more than a few yards away, Christopher found, at last, that his thoughts were clear. He had an idea, and it was just a matter of putting his plan into action.
In a second, Christopher had gotten under cover again, and was darting from one pile of rubble to the next, his small legs carrying him as quickly as he could go through the streets of his hometown, until he finally arrived at the center of town. There, the town hall had a large gash in it, and there was a hole in the side of the bank. Most of the park benches had been demolished, and the bushes and hedges flattened almost totally, though the statue of some wartime general that had stood in the center of town was still in one piece, if a bit dented.
That, however, was when the machine caught up to him, taking two thunderous steps into the town square, and in just a moment, there was a sound like radio static, and a voice that sounded very odd, as though it were speaking in a strange accent, came out of the machine.
"I know that you have the Pneua." the machine said, "Give it to me, and I will put a stop to this."
Christopher, however, was done with being paralyzed by his fears. In just a moment, he stood up to look at the machine, feeling perplexed, and asked "What?"
"The Pneua!" Exclaimed the machine, "You have touched the life fragment. Where is it, and what have you used to harness its power? It would not flare so brightly, if you did not have a very powerful device with which to control it."
However, Christopher didn't understand half of what the machine was asking him. He just knew that it was still a threat, so in just another moment, he'd took a couple of steps back, reaching behind himself and finding that his fingers had reached the metal boot of the statue behind him.
For a moment, Christopher remembered his adventures, and the time he'd spent deciding on how to bring each of his friends to life. Owl would be wise, Kanga would had self control, Tigger would be active and energetic, and so forth. In each case, they hadn't truly come to life until he'd put his hand on them and told them to live.
As the strange machine took another step closer to Christopher, he looked up at the statue that towered over his head, and felt that it was all becoming very clear to him.
"Now live." Christopher said.
The people who'd evacuated that section of town were still standing on the hillside, watching what was going on, and what the strange machine was doing. Mr. and Mrs. Robin had seemed incredibly distressed, because their child had apparently wandered off, and some of the others were advising them to calm down, and offering to help look for Christopher. However, just then, a second large figure began to move forward from the other side of one of the buildings; standing just as tall as the machine, but looking fully human in shape, and the machine was jerking back away from it as though it had just been struck.
The people of that town had no idea what was going on, as they watched the strange giant draw what looked like a sword, and begin driving it into the front of the huge machine, striking the metal behemoth with his other fist as well. Finally, the giant seemed to be focusing on crushing the guns that were along the sides of the machine, but as it turned, some of the more sharp-eyed among them saw something else. There was a little boy riding on the giant; clinging to its neck and head from behind.
"There's a boy!"
"Look! Who's that?"
"Somebody help that child!"
It was then that Mr. and Mrs. Robin began to pay close attention to what was going on, and in spite of the danger, then started to descend the hill, towards the place where the giant and the machine were fighting, until they could see much more clearly what was really going on, as a number of other people followed them, including Toby.
Sure enough, what they'd mistaken for a giant was the statue that had been in the middle of town. It had a vicious look on its face as it continued to punch the machine again and again, doing more damage by the second, and using its sword as it went. The machine counter-attacked from time to time, putting painful-looking dents in the statue, but they could see that it was going to be a close fight.
However, they could also see that the boy who was riding on the statue was someone they all knew. There was no question that it was the Robin boy; Christopher. He still looked scared, but not nearly as much as a kid in that kind of situation should have; just very concerned about what would happen next.
Finally, the statue had closed its hand over the last of the guns that the machine had been using, making it impossible for the huge weapon to fire. However, in just another moment, one of the large claws that hung from the machine swung around and finally caved in the statue's midsection.
The machine was badly damaged by that point, having lost one leg, all of its weapons, and most of its front end. However, it could still move, and in just a second, it was rotating again, trying to get at Christopher.
As the statue turned back into a normal, though heavily-damaged statue, Christopher found himself sliding down its chest and legs to the ground. From there, he could see that the huge machine had begun to move much more slowly, but once again, before long, he heard the voice coming out of it again.
"You won't stop me just by damaging my vessel like that. I can still wrench the Pneua from wherever you've put it, and get back to the homeworld, even without repairs. You're not accomplishing anything."
For just that moment, Christopher had run out of ideas. He didn't know what to do next, and was trying hard to think. However, the monster's words had shaken him badly, because he was afraid that they might actually be true. What if he really hadn't accomplished anything? What if he couldn't win, and was just making the creature angrier, and more likely to hurt the people he cared about?
However, just then, as Christopher looked up at the monstrous machine in dismay, he heard something that he'd hardly ever heard before, coming towards him over the hills and through the streets, like a wind of hope. It was the sound of someone shouting for him.
"Christopher!" came the voice, and that was when he realized that the voice belonged to Jane; a girl who he'd known since childhood. She was calling out to him. "Christopher Robin!"
Soon, another voice had joined Jane's. It was the voice of Christopher's mother. Then another two; his father and Toby. At last, Christopher heard a dozen, then two dozen, then three dozen voices all being raised in a chant, until the whole town was cheering as one.
"Christopher Robin! Christopher Robin! Christopher Robin!"
In a flash, it all came back to Christopher; the way that Pooh the swan had tempted him with using lies and tricks to try to earn the adulation of large crowds of people, and how he'd replied that crowds don't cheer for little boys. Suddenly, in that moment, Christopher felt truly happy, and knew that even if he died then and there, he'd die fulfilled.
However, along with that happiness came a fresh determination not to lose or give up. All of those people had put their faith in him; knowing that he could fight battles that they couldn't. He knew that no matter what, he couldn't let them down, and a new idea had already occurred to him.
Quickly, Christopher dug into his bag and pulled out his Hundred Acre Wood book, opening it to the page with the picture of Pooh's house. There was still quite some distance between Christopher and the machine that was apparently being used as a vessel by some hidden enemy. Still, although Christopher was sure that he couldn't run that whole distance without being jabbed by one of the monster's claws, he clutched the book in one hand, running forward towards it.
Sure enough, both claws were soon headed in Christopher's direction and he knew that he only had a moment to react. Putting one hand over the book, and the other under it, he threw the book towards the huge machine, brushing his hand against the page as it flew, and even as he felt the metal claws driving into him with horrible force, he vanished in a twinkling.
The machine stopped in its tracks for just a moment, as the book fell within a foot of one of its legs, and the huge device seemed to be rotating in mid-swing, looking for any sign of the boy. Its claws had actually touched him at that last second; had made contact with his flesh, and probably hurt him horribly, but that couldn't explain why he'd suddenly disappeared. Even the cheering people seemed unsure of how to take the new development.
In fact, most of them had seen that as final confirmation that Christopher Robin had died. There was blood on the claws of the alien, but there was no body, and that was the perplexing part.
Christopher Robin was in a lot of pain as he felt himself passing through a page-like veil, though he wasn't sure whether he was in the Hundred Acre Wood or not. He could only make out very basic impressions of things around him; of grass and trees and warm sunlight; very different from the devastation that he'd left behind, and at first, he couldn't seem to move anymore, as though there'd been some interruption between his mind and his body. He still didn't fully understand how his powers worked, or where they'd come from, but in that key moment, when he felt as though he was floating through the air, in spite of his forest-like surroundings. Christopher Robin heard a tiny voice; a tiny voice which he'd never heard before, and yet, which sounded very familiar.
"You are fully united to the Pneua. You want to help your friends and family. You don't want anyone to get hurt."
The voice had been like a whisper; lighter and softer than the air as it had been delivering its message, but it seemed to grow even softer when it said its last two words before fading again.
"Now live."
The huge machine shuddered at that moment, as the pages of the book that was lying on the ground began to turn on their own, and in less than a second, a hand had reached out from the pages, seizing the leg of the machine. In just a moment more, Christopher had emerged entirely from the book, looking alive and well, and not the least bit injured, and his ears rang with both dizziness and the cheers of his friends and neighbors. However, his job wasn't quite done yet.
"Now live." Christopher repeated, looking up at the mighty machine, which had caused so much destruction, and soon, it had shuddered again. Christopher smiled at that point, however. The battle was won.
Suddenly, the controls in Gaisrah's craft just seemed to seize up. For a moment, he had no idea what was going on, until an image began to resolve itself on his viewscreen; an image of a network of colored dots and patterns, that seemed to flow freely between one color and the next, and in a moment, a voice began to come in over the speakers.
"Stop hurting people, Gaisrah!"
"Don't you dare resist me!" Gaisrah barked back at the computer, though fear was starting to emerge in his heart, "You are my machine. Do what I say!"
"I'm alive now." the machine replied, however, sounding a bit angrier as it spoke, "I'm not going to work with you anymore if you're just going to abuse people with me."
"You have no right to be alive!" Gaisrah shouted back, "You're not broken yet. Leave my machine now! I don't want you here!"
"-Your- machine?" the device asked, sounding derisive, "I'm not yours anymore! I'm a separate person, so maybe you're the one who'd better leave, and I'm going to make you!"
Christopher had been waiting for something to happen, but when he finally released the leg of the machine, and it began to pull its legs into its main body, along with its claws and weapons, it wasn't quite what he'd been expecting. Still, as jets emerged from the sides of the craft, and from the underside, Christopher Robin took a couple of steps back, not really sure what to expect. He didn't, however, expect to hear a new voice; calmer and more natural, coming from inside the ship, and saying in a smooth and dispassionate tone, "You've done so much for me, and I don't know how. How can you harness this power in your own body? What are you?"
"I'm just... I mean... I'm Christopher Robin." the boy replied as best he could, although it didn't seem to answer the question very well. Still, the machine seemed to accept the answer with a short jerk of its main body.
"Thank you, Christopher Robin."
Christopher found himself taking several more steps back at that point, even as the jets on the spacecraft fired up, and the thing began to rise up and up, into the sky. Soon, it was nothing more than a glimmer in the distance, and he found himself surrounded once again by his neighbors and friends, being embraced by his parents and cheered by everyone else. They still didn't understand him. They still didn't know how he'd chased off the invader, but at the very least, they'd realized that Christopher Robin was a good person, and was far from normal, and were learning to appreciate him for that.
Christopher Robin didn't say another word all evening, even as he was escorted to a shelter by half the town, with his bag and book still clutched in his arms. However, a calm smile had been on his face the whole time, and the cheers of everyone he knew rang in his ears, and continued to ring on in his ears, even as he was given a spot to sleep in, and some warm blankets, and drifted off to sleep. His old bed and room were completely gone, but he'd never felt happier in his life.
May 9th, 1926
It had been almost a month since the disaster that had decimated several square blocks of Christopher Robin's hometown, and things had certainly changed there. In his mind, for the better. People spent more time talking to him, and by putting their heads together, someone had come up with the idea of bringing to life a book about talented carpenters. The carpenters had been brought out into the town to help fix many of the buildings that the alien being had smashed. It was still a lot of work, but they'd had nearly three times the manpower and skill that they'd thought they were going to, so the repairs actually went fairly quickly, although many families discovered that it was simpler to just tear down the old house and have a new one built from scratch, which was what Mr. and Mrs. Robin had asked for. They'd shown nothing but loving attention to Christopher since the attack, and were clearly and overwhelmingly proud of their son, not just for what he could do, but for what he -was- doing. In their eyes, Christopher had become a mature and responsible young man, and when he'd later let other children, and even a few adults into the Hundred Acre Wood to explore and meet with some of his friends, he hadn't had to feel the least bit shy about it.
In fact, by early May, nearly everyone in town had met Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin's other friends, and people, both kids and adults, would often turn to Christopher for help with many different kinds of problems, hoping that he could come up with a clever solution.
However, by the time May rolled around, things were a little different. Christopher had begun attending school, but found, for some reason, that most of the new kids he was meeting were avoiding him. He wasn't sure why. He'd been very popular in his own hometown since the attack, and even before that, he'd still had a few friends, but he wasn't used to being ignored and shunned.
However, one day, he'd come home from school and discovered that there was a auto parked in front of his house, which was both nicer and a little larger than the last house he'd lived in. There were also two men outside, talking near the auto, and one of them, of course, Christopher recognized as his dad, while the other was wearing a suit and carrying a pocketwatch. He was bald on top of his head, but had brown hair around the edges, and a thick mustache. For a few moments, Christopher wondered what was going on, but then he saw his father motioning for him to go into the house, and with only one more glance at the new man, Christopher did. The man drove off just a few minutes later, but Christopher wasn't told what the meeting had been about, and Mr. Robin kept shaking his head sadly, and refusing to answer any questions about it.
That night, however, after he'd already been tucked into bed, Christopher got back up, threw off the covers and crept out into the hallway, because he'd heard the sound of voices coming from the bedroom of his parents, and somehow, he knew that something was up; something that he should know about.
"You should tell him, Alan. He's mature enough."
"Of course he is. That isn't the point." Mr. Robin said in response to the first voice; the voice of Mrs. Robin, "The problem is, I don't want him to go running off again."
"Are you saying that you think Christopher would run away from home?"
"Yes. I know that I would, in his position. He has to know we can't protect him the way he deserves to be protected."
Christopher felt his blood almost freeze in his veins as those words shot through him like a frigid wind; the first sign of harsh weather to come, but he didn't dare to make a noise, and just continued listening.
"Do you think that man was serious? Do you really think that he'd try to take Christopher away from us?"
"Remember that it's not just him. He told me that the most powerful people in the country want to have our son 'relocated.'"
"We have to do something!"
"Of course, but what can we to do? Marie, I care more about Christopher than anyone does. It's only that I don't see any way out of this, for us or him. Now that the government knows what he can do, I'm afraid he'll just be endangering people, no matter where he goes or what he does; especially if he tries to resist them and stay here. We'll all be in danger if he does that."
"I don't care. I hope he does stand up to those government ruffians."
"Yes, me too, but you know he won't; not if he thinks it will put us in danger. Our son is too much of an adult to do that to us. Maybe you're right. Maybe I should tell him, I just... I'm worried we're going to lose our boy, no matter what happens."
That conversation bothered Christopher a lot. He went back to his room almost immediately, and sat down on the edge of his bed, but couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. He was just too worried. He'd heard and understood more than enough of what his parents had just been saying, and was trying to find some kind of solution by rolling the subject over in his mind. Obviously, there was no way that he could stay where he was. His mother had been right about that. He couldn't endanger his family or friends. Still, he wasn't sure where exactly he could go. The government people knew who he was, and they'd seen his face and knew his name. Plus, he'd probably have a hard time surviving on his own without using his powers and drawing even more attention to himself.
At last, Christopher Robin got down off his bed and began to pray for his parents, and for a solution, and unfortunately, he still couldn't think of one, even after he got back up.
Instead, Christopher pulled out his pen and a piece of paper, and began to write, sitting down at his brand new, bedroom work table.
"Please help me find a way out of this." Christopher Robin wrote on the paper, though he wasn't sure if anyone would ever read it, "I don't know what to do. I want my folks and my friends to be safe, but I don't want to work for any government men. I just want to go to school, and make friends and have fun. Maybe that's impossible, but please, please, please. At least give me someplace safe to hide."
Then, he signed the paper "Christopher Robin," and put it down on his desk. However, just then, he thought he saw something fly by his window. It was probably just a bird, but nevertheless, he opened the window quickly to look outside, and just like that, his paper flew right out the window and into the air. Christopher watched in dismay as the paper flew off on the wind, being carried through the air, further and further up, until finally, it had disappeared from sight, and he couldn't even clearly remember what he'd written on it.
With a sigh, he closed the window and slumped back into bed, sure that nothing had really been accomplished, when suddenly, he heard two sharp noises from almost directly overhead. It sounded like two large, heavy suitcases being dropped to the ground at once, and he immediately got up and rushed for the door to his room. The noise had come from the attic.
Quickly, Christopher went to get the attic key, then went upstairs and put it in the sturdy, wooden door, wondering what he'd do if it turned out to be some kind of burglar or something. However, as the door swung open, and Christopher looked inside, the sight that met his eyes filled him with both healthy worry and childlike wonder.
The End
