The news of Portinari's revised estimate of Earth's lifespan hit the local paper on Tuesday morning: ALIEN CLAIMS WORLD TO END ON FRIDAY. The subline read, NO PLANS MADE TO EVACUATE EARTH.
"It's just not right," Binky remarked to Van, who was rolling alongside him toward the exit at the end of the school day. "The world should end on a Monday."
"For me it's already ended," lamented Van, whose plastered beak had mended enough that he could speak semi-intelligibly. "My mom's leaving my dad."
"Gee, I'm sorry," said Binky.
Van's mother picked him up that day, and the two drove to the Chanel mansion. Mrs. Cooper had despised the place when it was owned by the Crosswires, and her feelings hadn't changed, but an urgent matter compelled her to enter.
A French manservant opened the front door for them, and stood stiffly. "Please come in, madame," he intoned.
"If it's all the same," said Mrs. Cooper, "I'd like Mrs. Chanel to invite me in personally."
Unaccustomed to such a request, the bulldog man in the formal suit waited a moment before turning and disappearing into the spacious mansion. Van and his mother remained where they were, neither moving nor speaking.
Finally an aardvark woman in a fancy floral dress appeared at the door. "Come in," she said coldly.
Mrs. Cooper took a seat across from Mrs. Chanel in the palacial living room, and Van parked his chair next to her. Mickie appeared briefly at the top of the spiral stairway that led to the bedroom that had once been Muffy's, and waved at the duck boy.
"Is he here?" asked Mrs. Cooper. "I'd like to see him."
"Yes, he's here," Mrs. Chanel answered. "Louis," she ordered the manservant, "go and bring Zeke."
"Oui, madame," said the Frenchman with a bow.
While the servant was gone, Mrs. Cooper made her opinions clearly known. "I won't mince words, Mrs. Chanel. I don't approve of Zeke being here. It was a cruel and cowardly act to take him away from his parents, and I'll never forgive my husband for it. But now that he is here, I just want to make sure he's well taken care of."
Mrs. Chanel nodded patiently. Louis returned shortly, accompanied by a bashful-looking Pomeranian boy. Zeke was dressed in a fashionable flannel suit and tie, in stark contrast to the worn trousers Van had seen him in before. His black shoes were well polished, and his fuzzy hair had apparently been groomed by a professional.
"Hello, Zeke," said Mrs. Cooper. "How have the Chanels been treating you?"
Zeke took a deep, hesitant breath before speaking. "They took me to the mall and bought me a lot of expensive stuff."
The duck woman frowned disappointedly.
"I'd like to plant some tomatoes and pumpkins," Zeke went on, "but they don't have a garden."
"We're shopping for a greenhouse," said Mrs. Chanel. "Soon he'll be able to grow as much food as he wants."
"I miss my mom and dad," said Zeke dolefully.
Mrs. Chanel changed the subject. "Tomorrow he'll start attending Lakewood with Mickie. After years of being home-schooled by those fanatics"—Mrs. Cooper winced with indignation—"attending a public school will be so beneficial to his development."
"Maybe you'll be in my class," said Van excitedly.
"Hey, Van," said Zeke, "is it true your folks are splitting up?"
The duck boy fumbled for a response.
"Did you hear that?" said Mrs. Chanel arrogantly. "What a question to ask a boy when his mother is sitting right next to him. But we'll have him acting like a proper gentleman in no time."
"Who are you gonna live with?" was Zeke's next question. "Your mom or your dad?"
"That's quite enough," the aardvark woman snapped at him.
"I've taken up too much of your time," said Mrs. Cooper, rising abruptly.
She and Van had only bitter things to say about the Chanels as they made their way back to the car. "They'll turn that boy into a monster," the duck woman predicted.
"They're just like the Crosswires," said Van. "When they do something nice, it's for the positive media coverage."
"Don't talk so much," his mother ordered. "You'll strain your beak."
----
Later in the day, Arthur and Francine strapped on helmets and protective pads, and enjoyed an aimless bike ride. "I can't believe I've been riding this same old bike for two years," Francine remarked. "Look at it. Bent out of shape, rust everywhere. It looks like I'll be riding it until the end of the world."
Arthur laughed. "Funny," he commented, "how I don't feel the mark on my hand when I'm holding on to the handlebars."
"I wonder if we have to go back to the unicorns to get rid of the marks," Francine mused.
"Doesn't make a lot of difference now," said Arthur.
As they rode along the edge of the street, they saw two people in long overcoats rounding a corner ahead of them. Both the man and woman had horse-like faces with slight indentations on their foreheads. They stepped into the street and positioned themselves in the path of the two biking kids, their expressions void of emotion.
Thinking the strange pair might want to ask them a question, Arthur and Francine skidded to a stop a few feet away.
"You must come with us," said the horse man coldly.
"It is time," added the horse woman.
"Time for what?" asked Francine innocently.
"Time to GET OUT OF HERE!" exclaimed Arthur in sudden horror.
The aardvark boy whipped his bike around and pedaled furiously away, and Francine followed suit. It required all her strength and pedaling prowess to draw parallel with her fleeing friend.
"They're Sentinels," Arthur told her. "Greta must have sent them."
"So that's what she meant when she said we didn't have a choice," said Francine, panting from the exertion.
Looking over his shoulder, Arthur saw that the two horse people were walking in their direction at a leisurely pace. "They aren't trying very hard," he commented.
He and Francine spun around a corner, biked rapidly for two blocks, and stopped in front of the Muffin Man coffee shop. It seemed they had eluded their pursuers, but Arthur wasn't convinced, as he recalled his father's account of the Sentinels' ability to move at incredible speed.
Sure enough, two horse people in overcoats were strolling down the sidewalk in their direction—but this time, it was a different couple.
"Escape is impossible," intoned the horse man.
"You are only endangering yourselves," droned the horse woman.
Wondering how many Sentinels had been stationed throughout the neighborhood, Francine and Arthur hurled themselves against the pedals and sped away again. This time they headed for the police station, supposing the unicorn soldiers would think twice about threatening them there.
But as soon as they arrived, two more Sentinels, closely resembling the first pair, emerged from the station entrance ahead of them. Now terrified beyond reason, Arthur and Francine turned and pedaled frantically, not looking back.
They rode on for block after block, and finally reached a business district. Winded, they took a break in front of a Lackluster Video store. They half expected Sentinels to swarm around them from all directions, but none did.
"I think we're safe now," said Arthur. "But I could be wrong."
"What do we do now?" Francine wondered. "We can't go home."
"Grandma Thora doesn't live far from here," Arthur suggested. "Maybe we can hide out with her."
He rolled away from the curb, and Francine kept pace with him. They had covered two more blocks before yet another pair of Sentinels blocked their way.
"What the..." Francine exclaimed in outrage. "How are they doing this?"
"It's the marks on our hands," Arthur realized. "They're like homing beacons."
"You mean...they can follow us anywhere?"
"Pretty much," said Arthur hopelessly.
"Leave us alone!" Francine barked at the advancing horse people. "We don't want to go with you!"
"The choice is no longer yours," said the female Sentinel.
In their panic, the two kids could think of nothing to do but retreat. They biked away again, their leg muscles aching, their lungs screaming for mercy.
"Sooner or later they'll wear us out," said Arthur as he struggled to keep his feet moving. "We've got to think of something."
Then an idea formed in Francine's head. "Follow me," she ordered.
Arthur did so, and they soon arrived in front of Tae One On, the martial arts studio where both Sue Ellen and Francine took lessons.
The dojo was empty; Mr. Kim, the instructor, was inside his office reading a magazine. Francine removed her helmet and shoes, and bowed quickly, before stepping onto the mat. As Arthur watched, she hurried to the other side of the classroom and vanished into a closet. She reappeared seconds later, holding a long, slender object in her hands.
A pair of Sentinels walked into the studio half a minute later, and Francine was ready for them.
"Come with us now," demanded the male, "or we will use force."
"Wait," said Francine, who was smirking and holding one hand behind her back. "How do we know you're really Sentinels? Show us your horns."
The two horse people stood motionlessly, and swirling golden mists emerged from their foreheads, coalescing into the shape of horns.
"Okay," said Francine. "We're convinced. We surrender."
The male Sentinel stepped closer to her, and she revealed the object she was holding behind her back—a gleaming kata sword.
Screaming with fury, gripping the sword handle with both hands, and heaving with all her strength, Francine brought the weapon around in an arc. Its blade struck the Sentinel at the base of his horn, severing the appendage and knocking him off balance. The female Sentinel immediately waved her hand, causing the sword to fly from Francine's clutches.
Arthur caught the unicorn horn on its first bounce. Holding it aloft, he said quickly, "I wish I didn't have the Mark of the Horn."
The female unicorn, who was getting ready to pounce on Francine, and the male, who lay on the floor with a hand over his bruised forehead, stared at the boy in shock. To Arthur's relief, when he opened his palm, the braided swelling was no longer present.
He tossed the horn to Francine, who lifted it above her head, declaring, "I wish I didn't have the Mark of the Horn either." The mark promptly faded from her hand.
The horn-deprived male Sentinel rose slowly to his feet, and he and his companion scowled at the two grinning kids. "Now you will die with the rest," he said emotionlessly, and the pair of unicorns walked casually out of the studio as if nothing had happened.
Having heard the clatter of the sword as it landed, Mr. Kim stuck his head out of the office door. "Don't play with the weapons," he ordered in a thick Korean accent.
Francine gazed at the unicorn horn in her hand, wondering if the one remaining wish might somehow prove useful in the inevitable and apparently hopeless struggle against Dark Augusta.
"When I first saw you with that sword," Arthur said to her, "I thought you were going to cut off your hand."
"I just thought of something," said Francine, slapping her forehead. "The unicorns are only interested in couples. If only one of us had the mark, they'd leave us alone. We wasted a wish."
"That's okay," said Arthur. "You probably would've wished for something stupid, like being a boy."
Francine laughed, inserted the horn into her pocket, and skipped out of the studio.
----
to be continued