Ch. 7: Solid Walls of Sound
A small hand touched Sarah on the shoulder, drawing her back to herself.
"Don't cry," entreated a piping voice. "Stop, now. 's alright"
Sarah raised her head from her arms, her dark hair spilling forward to hide her eyes. She expected to see Toby, but instead her gaze met that of a small creature perched on the counter next to her. Sarah didn't jump, or yell, or scream; her capacity for strong emotion was worn out for the day. She wasn't even that surprised. This, she supposed, was the Watcher.
"Who are you?" she asked dully. She sniffed loudly and wiped her face halfheartedly with the back of one hand.
"I'm Pidgin."
The goblin hopped in front of her. Sarah studied it more carefully. Pidgin was about the size of beagle, and almost as cute. It had over-sized orange eyes and large pointy ears; its skin was a sickly olive green and it had webbed hands and feet. Its posture was similar to that of a frog. She smiled wanly.
"Are you watching me, Pidgin?"
"Maybe," it muttered. It looked down. "Didn't mean no harm. Weren't supposed to talk to you."
"My little brother is in the next room. You should probably go before he sees you."
"Nah, he's sleepin'. I looked first."
"Are you going to tell Jareth about the fire?"
"Maybe."
"I'd rather that you not."
"Hmph." It scratched its head. "I know m'job." It hopped a little bit away from her, down the counter, but turned to study her again. "Should be more careful. Don't get angry. Or sad. You know?"
"No, I don't," she said. "But emotion triggers these... episodes. Right?"
"Seems so." Pidgin bobbed its head at her. "Going now. Bye." It hopped off the edge of the counter. Sarah scrambled up and peered at the floor. The goblin was nowhere to be seen. Gone back to wherever it came from. Though if its been watching me, it can't have gone far. Sarah thought of the misty lands, where she could see the Labyrinth without actually entering it. Perhaps Pidgin watched her from between the Aboveground and Underground. The Middleground. Sarah's mouth curled up slightly. That was a good name for it.
The cry had made Sarah feel better, letting out the confusion and frustration she had felt for weeks. Didn't solve any of her problems, but she felt a little more clearheaded now. Sarah tiptoed into the family room to look at Toby; he was sleeping, as Pidgin had said. Must have been a big day at preschool. He was curled up on the couch, oblivious of the chatter coming from the television. One arm was thrown across his head and his yellow (reminding her of daisies or buttercups) curls had fallen across his face. He really looked sweet, asleep, worlds away from the whiny and self-centered child he could be when awake. This was the Toby who drew her pictures and hugged her after a discouraging day at school. The girl watched him tenderly. She was so glad she had been able to save him.
She turned away and halted, making a little gasping noise. A pile of flowers lay on the coffee table: marigolds and white-petaled daisies, little buttercups and long-stemmed yellow roses. Enough to make two sizable bouquets. More pleasant than fires or electric shock, she thought grimly. Not surprising. Still disturbing. Apparently Pidgin's warnings on emotion extending to good ones as well as bad ones. But how was she supposed to stop her feelings? She couldn't spend the rest of her life like that, never being happy or sad or angry.
Sarah gathered the flowers into her arms and carried them away, up to her room. She put as many as could into her one legitimate vase, and stuffed the rest in the tallest plastic cups she could find. She even ran out to the recycle bin and grabbed a few empty jars. By the time she was done, her dresser and vanity and bookshelves were bedecked with yellow. The flowers were pretty, and would have been cheerier if they hadn't presented such a dilemma.
If Sarah dreamed that night, she didn't remember it. Upon waking, she was left only with an impression of words emerging from darkness: Let me help you before you hurt yourself.
She ignored them as best she could. I don't want to go back there.
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Benjamin and Aaron, along with Tim and Vince, held their first concert a week later. It was on a Friday night and they had managed to get permission to play at the park: it was equipped with a nice gazebo that was rarely used. Two other bands joined them, kids from school that Sarah recognized but didn't know. The place was milling with teenagers, lured outside by the promise of loud music and a rumor of free alcohol. Sarah didn't approve and she was pretty sure that Aaron and Benjamin were leery of trouble, but it was somewhat inevitable. She only hoped that everything would stay calm.
Sarah walked to the park, as was her custom, and met her friends in the parking lot. It was already crowded, but she could spot Dinah with all the members of "Bennie and the Jets" right away—they were congregated around Aaron's blue wreck of a car.
"Howdy, strangers," she said amiably as she strode up to the group. Dinah grinned, Aaron gave her a one-armed hug, and the others nodded. She studied the band members, who were all dressed in jeans and t-shirts as usual.
"Shouldn't you guys be a little more, you know, glam? Electric boots, mohair suits?" she joked. Benjamin made a horrible face.
"We are poor high school students," said Tim mournfully. "Maybe when we hit it big. Platform shoes, full-body make-up, glitter—we can do the works then."
"Sorry, hon, but you four are never gonna get away with full-body make-up and glitter," commented Dinah. "You don't have it in you. It takes a real man to pull glitter off."
Ben snorted. "Now that's one I haven't heard before."
"When are you guys playing?" asked Sarah quickly, sensing an argument coming on.
"We go second," replied Aaron.
"Maybe in an hour or so," clarified Vince.
"Hopefully this'll last that long," said Ben dourly. Sarah raised an eyebrow,and he nodded over to the side. Sarah looked and saw a group of guys, about their age, unloading a case of beer from the back of a minivan. She winced.
"Yeah," said Ben. "A drink or two in the basement of one's house is one thing-- frankly, I don't care if they get plastered every night as long as they keep to themselves. But I am going to kick their drunken asses if they get us in trouble. Hopefully the police won't show up until after we play."
"Do you think they will?" asked Dinah. Sarah looked around; it was getting dark, and she didn't see anyone besides teenagers out and about. The park was usually pretty deserted after five.
"Don't be such a pessimist, man. It'll be fine." Aaron shrugged. "We have awhile before we set up. Who wants to look around? I heard that Natalie Johnson was going to sell food."
The group left the parking lot and wandered into the mass of adolescents roaming the park. It was pretty amazing—Sarah hadn't realized what a production this was going to be. Besides the bands, there was Natalie selling drinks and chips, one competitor selling baked goods, and other, less visible people selling beer and vodka. As concerts went, it wasn't big, but it was large for a gathering put together entirely by high-schoolers. The six walked around while the first band warmed-up, greeting the occasional acquaintance and eating. Sarah's friends teased her about her reticence for the past week—she had gone missing outside of school, they said. Sarah shrugged and apologized, but didn't offer any explanation. What could she say? She was afraid of causing havoc? She had guarded her emotions since conjuring the flowers, but she didn't quite trust her luck.
Everyone converged around the gazebo-stage once the first band began to play: it was harder rock than Sarah preferred, harsh and far too thrashy to sing along to. It was, however, well-played, and the crowd was obviously pleased. They were packed tightly together in front of the gazebo and, slowly at first, began to dance en masse. By then it was full dark and the parking lot lights did little to illuminate the rest of the park. Sarah, Aaron, and Dinah were pressed into the middle of the mob and separated from the other three before they noticed. The world for Sarah, who was not particularly tall, became bounded by the dark, the music, and the bodies moving around her. She could feel the energy in the crowd acutely; it crackled in the air like static electricity, worrying her and exciting her in equal measure.
The sensible part of her worried about the possible actions of unrestrained, possibly intoxicated teens; the rest of her, the parts that yearned for something else in her life, something that made her feel intensely alive, cheered.
It was easy to understand and sympathize with all the rebels in her school, at times like these. The ones who drank and smoked and slept around. Everyone, she thought, her, and them, and everybody else, were looking for the same thing. A transcendent experience.
Sarah gave herself up to the mob and the music, forgetting any reasons why she might not want to lose self-control. She closed her eyes and joined the frenetic movements of those around her. She raised her face to the starry sky above and enjoyed the heat around her body and the cooler air that touched her uplifted head.
An interminable amount of time passed.
When Sarah opened her eyes again, the moon had risen. The new light dazzled her eyes, faint and ghostly as it was. Looking around, she couldn't find any familiar faces. She caught a flash of red hair to her left; no, the swaying figure was pale but tall, scarlet hair falling to its waist. Unnaturally green eyes flashed in the light. Sarah blinked. Definitely not Dinah. But no local high-school student either. Maybe a sibling from out of town.
Sarah pushed her way through the throng of people, hoping but not expecting to find her friends. She happened upon Ellie Nguyen after a few minutes, sipping a can of soda at the fringes of the crowd.
"Have you seen Dinah or Aaron?" called Sarah.
"What?" Ellie replied, cupping her free hand around an ear.
"Have you seen Dinah or Aaron?" she yelled, louder. Ellie nodded.
"Not Dinah!" she called. "Aaron's there!" She pointed to a picnic table a little ways away. Sarah waved her thanks and sauntered over to the table, relishing the fresh air. She could see distant lights in the woods—fireflies? It was almost May, but it still seemed a little early.
"Hey," she said as she sat down. Aaron smiled.
"Hey."
"Nice evening."
"Yep." Aaron studied her with his soft brown eyes. Sarah made a face.
"What?"
"Just looking," he replied. He paused. "Want to tell me what's been bothering you all week?"
"I don't know." She winced. "Probably nothing. Just got the blues for awhile, I guess. I'm fine."
"If you say so," he said dubiously. "You can always talk to me, you know. If you need to."
"Sure." Sarah looked down at the wooden tabletop, drumming her fingers against the surface. She bit her lip. If only...
"Do you believe in magic?" she asked, almost pleadingly. Aaron started in surprise.
"Magic?" He blinked quickly. "That's a strange question. No, I don't think so. I mean, I like Lord of the Rings as much as the next person, but I never really believed in fairies and dragons and unicorns, stuff like that. It would be nice, maybe, but I can't." He smiled. "Too literal a mind, I guess."
"Oh." Sarah sighed soundlessly. She couldn't tell him. Not about Jareth, or Pidgin, or the fire and flowers, or even about Grandmother Dara's note. I wish I could. It would be such a relief, not to pretend...
"What made you think of that? No, wait, let me guess. Beltane."
"Beltane?" she asked, confused. Aaron nodded.
"Come on, what kind of fantasy nut are you? Dinah was raving about it earlier. It's April 30th. May Day eve. Beltane. You know, druids, fairies, bonfires, blah blah blah?"
"Beltane," she whispered, remembering. "You're right. I didn't think of that."
"Funny, that we ended up out dancing and singing on this night, of all nights."
"Yes." Why was she nervous all the sudden, all over again? It was silly. Beltane was just an old human holiday, and Jeremy had said that his folk weren't really the Sidhe, or elves, or whatever. And Jareth wasn't even one of Jeremy's people. Er. To Sarah's racing mind, this seemed reassuring. Maybe legends and certain novels did say that the Faery Queen rose out on May eve. But the Daras weren't actually faeries and Jareth was definitely not. And none of them were queens. As a result, absolutely no reason to be worried. None. Nada. Yup.
Damn paranoia, she thought.
"Looks like they're finishing up," commented Aaron lightly. Sarah forced her mind away from dangerous thoughts and concentrated on the conversation. They. Aaron was talking about the first band.
"Ladies and gentleman," said the lead singer over his microphone, "We are the Gaping Crows! If you liked what you heard, come see us at our show next week! Flyers are available." He replaced the mic in its stand and the band began to pack up, amid applause and whistles.
"Guess you better get down there," said Sarah. "You guys are up next."
"Great," he laughed. "Don't worry, I probably won't throw up on stage. But you better come down too, to watch. Being one of our two groupies, and all."
Aaron walked back towards his car, where all their equipment was stashed; Sarah made her way towards the stage. The mass had dispersed during the intermission, resting their weary feet and guzzling their beverages of choice while sprawled on the grass. For awhile, the air held only the sound of muted voices and chirping insects, punctuated every now and then with a sharp burst of laughter. The flashing fireflies still buzzed in the woods. She strode over the grass, covered with people, but still felt an eerie sense of loneliness creeping up on her. She saw none of her school friends. Even acquaintances and familiar faces were few and far between. Sarah wondered, vaguely, where everyone was coming from. All three bands were from her high school.
The band was set up on stage in a matter of ten or fifteen minutes: Ben in front, an electric guitar hung around his neck, Aaron with his bass, blond Tim on the keyboard, and Vince with his drum set. All four had microphones for singing.
The kids floated back toward the stage.
"Good evening," said Ben into the microphone, voice dramatically deep. His best Dracula impression. It got a wave of chuckles from the audience. "Jack's group is a tough act to follow, but we're gonna do our best. I'm sure you're tired from the last set, so we'll give you a bit of a break, first song." He stepped back and gave some sort of signal to the rest of the band.
Tim started. Sarah grinned as she recognized the song, beginning with a simple tune on the keyboard. A glint of red caught her eye; she saw the crimson-haired woman from before moving next to her. The woman winked at Sarah and shifted; the girl saw the light glitter off of her bare arm—light reflected off of iridescent, skin-toned scales. She drew her breath in harshly.
Hey kids, shake it loose together
The spotlight's hitting something
That's been known to change the weather...
Aaron sang the first lines, his pleasant voice not quite as low as Ben's. Sarah turned sharply away from the stage, away from the creature next to her. She surveyed the sea of faces now in front of her, turned strange in the half-light.
...We'll kill the fatted calf tonight,
So stick around...
Human, human, entranced by the music. It was their theme song; the words were the original ones so far, but the arrangement sounded like "Bennie and the Jets" played by the choirs of Hell. What was Aaron doing on bass?
She saw a pair of eyes with no whites, just full shining black. No one else noticed.
...you're gonna hear electric music,
solid walls of sound...
And there, towards the edges, a figure that was too tall and skinny to be mistaken for another teenager. She almost mistook it for a tree. Sarah began moving forward, pushing through the swaying mob faster and faster.
...Say Candy and Ronnie, have you seen them yet,
Oh but they're so spaced out, Bennie and the Jets...
It really was too early for fireflies. And the lights were too large. They had left the line of the forest, gliding closer and closer to the people. Sarah pushed harder, almost running.
...Oh but they're weird and they're wonderful,
Bennie, he's really keen....
Sarah broke through the edge of the crowd and was running full out in the moonlight, mindlessly. Toward the forest. Toward her oak tree, toward her cool marble bench. The excitement of the music and the clear night air was mixing with her genuine fear and bewilderment.
...they've got electric boots, and mohair suits,
you know I read it in a magazine,
Bennie and the Jets...
Fear, but wonder too. This wasn't Lady Dara or her shining step-cousins, overbearing and perfect—this was bright and wild, rich and strange. This was the host of faerie if anything was, more akin to the Labyrinth than Jeremy or Angharad. But still not quite that. There were tiny beings in the hovering lights, and not the vicious pixies she had seen in the Labyrinth. She saw more, now, dozens of figures watching from afar: some tall and slender, some short and knobby, some waifish and wraithlike.
...Hey, kids, plug into the faithless,
Maybe they're blinded,
But Bennie makes them ageless...
Almost there, almost there, though why her bench should be safer than anywhere else, she didn't know. Something was bubbling up inside her, until she felt near bursting.
...We shall survive, let us take ourselves along,
Where we fight our parents out in the streets
To find who's right and who's wrong...
Bennie and the Jets.
She ran into the outstretched arms of the oak tree and felt all her restless energy burst out of her in an explosion of relief and amazement and a crazy sort of joy. She reached the oak but somehow she was still moving, feet still pounding on the grass. Sarah didn't notice the song end behind her, or the sudden distant wail of sirens. She didn't notice the flashing red-and-blue lights approach—the police had been tipped off to the cases of alcohol at the concert, drunk freely by the teens. She was lost in the feeling of wind in her hair and stars above her and the knowledge that mystery still lurked in her deadeningly prosaic town.
Sarah didn't come to her senses until she realized that the tree was still above her. She was running, but the tree was still above her. She looked up and around, and there was the forest and the bench. Hazy and blurry, and growing more so by the moment. She skidded to a stop, but the ground beneath her didn't feel so much like packed dirt and grass anymore. Too soft, too insubstantial.
"No," she whispered. She whirled around. Her eyes felt unfocused, but she couldn't bring anything into clear view. Cue the panic. She had somehow crossed over into the Middleground.
"Oh, god," she pleaded. She took a few steps backwards, but there was no change. She was stuck. "Oh, no."
Badbadbadbadbadbadbad. BAD. What happened? How did I..?
She'd been here before. Only problem was, this time she wasn't sleeping. She couldn't escape by waking up. It wasn't her consciousness in the fog, but her body.
She took a deep breath and tried to float back to the park, like she floated back to her room in her dreams. It didn't work. She felt too heavy, too substantial. It... didn't... work.
Sarah bit back her panic, tried to swallow the cries rising in her throat.
"Pidgin?" she called, hoping that her Watcher would be around. No response. Louder this time: "Pidgin? Are you... can you hear me?"
Nothing.
Her legs crumpled from underneath her and she sank to the ground. Whatever bravery she had felt in the Labyrinth, years ago, failed to reappear. There, she had a goal. She knew what she was supposed to do; it was just a matter of doing it in time. She met friendly creatures along the way. She hadn't been alone.
Now—the solution wasn't quite so clear. She was alone. She was trapped.
"I'm so stupid," she mumbled into her knees, eyes squeezed shut. Well, wasn't this what the Goblin King had predicted? Sarah had finally done something big. The fire had been scary and the flowers nice, but she didn't see a way out of here.
"The worst part..." she muttered, trailing off. She grimaced. There was an idea, in her mind, of what she could do. She didn't relish the thought.
It was chilly, here in the space between realities. Her tank top and jeans weren't quite up to the task of warming her.
The worst part will be admitting that I'm wrong.
Sarah was, without warning, utterly exhausted. She straightened her hair and stood up shakily, pulling down on her shirt. When she looked a little more composed, she pushed back her pride and opened her mouth.
"Jareth?" she said. She cleared her throat, and repeated it more loudly. "Jareth? I... need help. Please."
Nothing. Sarah tried rephrasing her words.
"Jareth. Please help me. I don't know what to do."
She shut her eyes and waited. It was utterly silent; no sound leaked to her from the park. The fast patter of her heartbeat seemed nearly audible.
Then, a footstep. Another, from behind her. The girl didn't turn or open her eyes. A swish of cloth against cloth. A leather-encased hand closed around her upper arm.
"This was rather more spectacular than I was expecting," he said, close to her ear. She flinched away from the sensation of his breath on her face.
"Get me out," she said, uncomfortable but still somehow comforted.
"Certainly," the King replied. "But this may not be pleasant. Keep hold of my hand."
She tentatively wrapped her fingers around his. When she looked up at his face, his own countenance was unreadable, not mocking as she expected. Mercurial Goblin King, always moving swiftly from one mood to the next. The blank face was perhaps more unnerving than any other expression—it was then that he seemed most alien, his eyes ancient and undecipherable.
"Here we go," he announced in a light voice that didn't match his face.
He pulled her forward and then something bad happened. The fog became dark and then they were rushing through flashing lights, landscapes forming around them for a second before switching to a different one. Black, red, blue, white, they whirled past so fast as to dazzle her eyes, and alternating bitter cold and harsh heat set her even more off balance. They moved faster than she could run, and then she was just being dragged along—her feet slogging through something thick and cloying.
Finally the world turned utterly black and Sarah opened her mouth to scream, felt the vibration in her throat, but heard nothing. She knew her hand was clenched around Jareth's, but she couldn't feel anything. Her mind rebelled...
...and then she knew nothing. Oblivion was a welcome retreat.
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A/N: Another chapter done! Finally. Sorry, school's kinda interfering with my free-time nowadays. Durn school. ;-) Hopefully next chapter will arrive fairly soon.
I would like to thank my reviewers once again for their input: Awhina, Etre-loup de Madame, Velf, CrimsonSympathy, tabbicat 12, Cyber Keiko, Lovely Doom, onesmallmunchkin, draegon-fire, b00kperson, Mystic Catface, and Anon. I 'preciate it.