Author's note: It's been a few months since I updated. So let's recap.
Wilbur travels to the present.
Oh shiz, he brings bad news!
Cornelius dead! Let's use the time machine to fix everything.
Say what! Cornelius is still dead...or is he?
Wilbur gets chased by two bad guys in weird costumes.
OMG, the guy with the top hat is really his dad.
They're back home now. Happy reunion!
Noooo, future house gets attacked!
Now back to our scheduled program.
Chapter 12
"So you're not mad at me?" Cornelius asks hesitantly.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Franny smiles, but the sharpness in her eyes silences him from answering. "You're going to have to work very hard to get back into my good graces."
"What can I do then?"
"For one thing, don't die before me," she says as she wraps her arms around him.
"Well, statistically, the chances of that are quite slim. Evolutionarily speaking, males tend to live shorter lives and within our species, a time gap of at least twenty years exists ergo-"
"Just shut up and kiss your wife." And the taste of her exploded in his mouth. Her grip on his shirt keeping him from taking a single breath.
Cornelius had missed this. Running for his life, he had had other things to worry about; but now, the exhaustion of it all, the relief of feeling and seeing his wife, makes him want to collapse into her embrace and smell the perfume of her hair.
"Hm, not too bad," she says, "you might need some more practice."
"Being dead has a way with people."
"Well, you weren't, and that's all that really matters right. You know," she says as she traces her finger across his chest, "there's nobody at home right now. Why don't we go upstairs and-"
"Franny? What's wrong?"
"I thought I saw someone coming up the backyard." She peers through the glass. Cornelius follows suit, seeing nothing of note except for the trees blowing in the wind.
"Probably just your imagination."
"Maybe. I'm just a little antsy today…what's that noise?"
"What noise?" Cornelius asks.
"There's this ringing in my ear that's getting worse."
"Ringing?" He listens more intently.
"Yes," he thinks, "is that a bell?"
He looks down. On the table is a single glass of water, waves growing more turbulent on the surface.
"Vibrati-"
Cornelius wakes up to a pounding rhythm threatening to split his head open in half. He remembers the blast and his impromptu flight across the room. Unconsciousness must have occurred right as his head had smashed against the wall.
"How long was I out?" He asks himself as he cradles his head in his hands. The beating of his heart throbs against the inside of his skull.
"Not so very long, Doctor." Seductive, deep, an almost Russian accent.
Sitting on the pile of rubble that was once the dining room's west wall is a beautiful woman fully dressed in leather. She looks at him intently. Her golden hair in a bun held in place by chopsticks. She wears an eye patch with a snake imprinted directly on top of it.
"Hmmm ahhh," she sighs as she inhales with her face to the sky. "Feel that good twenty-first century air. Nothing quite like it."
"So this is how the sky looks without the Scar. It's beautiful."
Cornelius manages to lean against the other wall. Pain shoots up his leg. Hopefully not broken, he thinks.
"What do you want?"
"You, of course, doctor."
"If you want to kill me, now's your chance. I can't run away." His eyes look back and forth. Where was Franny?
"If you're wondering about the lovely lady, she is safe. No worries." She nods her head to the side and someone steps up beside her. A masked man carries Fran in his arms.
"Let her go." He talks more to the man with the mask. He does not speak a word, merely nods and places her down on the table. Or what was left of it.
"Come with us Doctor, and your wife will be left alone. I promise," she says as she extends her hand to him.
"I can't really refuse now, can't I?"
"That's the point, Doctor."
"You," he says to the masked man, "are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me up?"
Cornelius hooks an arm over the man's shoulder and steals one last glance at his wife as he limps towards the blonde before him. He tries to meet the masked man's eyes, tries to garner some sort of sympathy. Their faces are surprisingly level, but where were the eyevholes? How is he seeing?
"I should at least know the names of my hosts?"
"This tall guy here…well, him we call Mask. Don't talk so much. And you probably already asked yourself how he sees through that." She shrugs her shoulders.
She then points to her eye patch. "And mine, incidentally enough, I'm called Snake. Pleasure doing business with you."
"Charmed, I'm sure. I would offer you some refreshments, but it seems we're all out."
"Thank you for the offer but I not so thirsty. How about you, Mask?"
"-"
They walk outside to the setting sun. On the hill, the green time machine appears. Another trip in time that wasn't going to end well, he thought.
Wilbur watches as the time machine disappears into the sky. "Dad."
Too late, if only by one minute. They could have saved him. He had seen him board the ship. Seen him turn with his pained face, looking straight at Wilbur. If he'd only been faster. If he only had power...
"Is she okay?" he asks Cereus as the man tends to his unconscious mother.
"Yeah, jus' a few bruises."Wilbur had also helped bandage her few injuries. "Physical examination reveals no other remarkable signs. No broken bones or crush trauma. Pupils equally round and reactive to light. Pulses to extremities are- "
Cereus catches the confused look on Wilbur's face. "Ah, yes. She'll be fine."
His gaze shifts to the west, where the darkness of the night meets the last vestiges of the sun. The clouds burn in an array of oranges and purples. "If I am to follow, I mus' go now, while the sun's still present."
"The sun?"
Cereus pulls his hood back to let the light touch his face for the first time, and his hair begins to shine, like a pulsing star. And his eyes begin to glow with an inner fire, as if gold was truly burning within him. Wilbur can feel the heat and pressure he emenated.
"To absorb enough energy to break through space-time." He walks to the empty field in the backyard, opening his jacket to let the light dance across his bare arms.
"Take me with you."
"I can't allow that."
"They have my dad! You have to let me go with you!"
Cereus bites his lip for a moment. "You know, I will pro'ly regret this."
"So you'll take me?"
"Yes." Wilbur jumps into the air. "But only under a few conditions."
"Sure anything!"
"Never leave my side. Always do as I say."
"Check. Check."
"And never le' on that you're Wilbur Robinson, not to anyone, ya hear?"
"Is that a bad thing?"
"DO YOU PROMISE?"
"Alright! I promise, geez. You don't have to yell."
"Then take my hand." With Cereus in front of him, shining like a beacon now, his face set like a statue. As his father had said, like a Greek god. For an instant, he feels the smoothness of Cereus's fingertips, then intense nausea as if he had spun himself into vertigo. Like the feeling of a thousand roller coasters all wrapped into one, threatening to tear his whole body apart.
Wilbur's eyes open into a wide expanse. A cliff meets him where the sky is swirling all around, melting off the heavens in an array of colors. As far as his eyes can see, it is a waterfall that keeps dropping into an infinite chasm. Yes, a waterfall. There is a sound that's just like it too, he thought. The sound of a million growling dogs.
"You…do not...belong here."
He turns to the voice. Behind him lay ruins. Stone columns weathered by time, grayed by the ages. It is a small piece of land floating within the vast emptiness. And there, in the middle of it all, sits a man on stone throne. His legs are crossed; his chin rests upon his hand. A golden mask hides his face.
"Who are you?" Wilbur asks.
"You…should not…be here." The voice arises from all around him. It is gasping, rasp.
"Where am I?"
The masked man uncrosses his legs, and Wilbur can feel the air shift, vibrating. He would have stepped back except for the endless cliff behind him.
Slow, the masked men took such slow steps. "How long has it been...since I last uttered...a single word?"
"How long has it been... since I left...this throne?" His thin fingers emerge from his glistening robes, creeping like a growing tendril towards the light. Wilbur's body seems to be frozen in place as those fingers touch his cheek.
"How long has it been... since I last saw...another face?" The man takes him into his arms. "This face... especially."
"But you... don't belong... here."
"You will...unbalance...the equilibrium...calculation." And with that, Wilbur feels the pressure on his chest and the pull of gravity as his feet leave the ground.
It catches him by surprise. For the first second or two, what registers in his mind is disbelief. Afterward comes the realization that he is falling.
"No!" Wilbur screams. He tries to grab something. Anything. But, there is nothing. No one. Time slows down for Wilbur. He looks directly at the masked man's face. There are no eye holes, yet it seems the man is looking straight at him. Through him. Killing him.
"Wilbur. Wake up!"
He jolts himself forward, his hand clutching Cereus' arm in a vise. The thought of falling still haunts him, and it takes some time before the hard ground beneath reassures him of where he is.
"Just having a bad dream?"
"Yeah…just a dream." The memory is still fresh. His chest can still feel that man's fingers pushing against him.
WIlbur stands up, dusts himself off. Nausea crashed through him and it seems that heavy lunch of his has come right back up.
"Alright there buddy?" Cereus asks. Wilbur opens his mouth to answer, only to retch once more.
What seems like an age passes before Wilbur looks up and stares into the horizon as movement catches his eye.
"Cereus…what is that?"
Something large is reflecting the sun. Metallic. It floats in the sky, lazily, like a gigantic, golden football with wings. It is the biggest thing Wilbur has ever seen. It must have been miles long. Now focusing even harder, he begins to discern smaller replicas zipping across the clouds.
"Oh that? That is the royal airship, the Apollo Far-Darter." Cereus frowns as he tries to cover as much of his skin from the light. "And that is completely bad news for us. We better move."
It hadn't been obvious to Wilbur at first glance, but they had appeared on top of a tall building. It was surrounded by smaller spires. A bustling city, yet completely different from what Wilbur was familiar with. Instead of the bright colors Robinson Industries usually promoted, this city is dark. An aura surrounds it. And right past the Apollo, tearing across the sky, are what seems to be claw marks raking against it. Like a wound beyond the clouds. And past all that, beyond the edges, is the familiar aurora of color from his dreams. It is all melting.
"No," Wilbur thinks, "the sky is bleeding."
Cereus takes a step and immediately collapses, bringing Wilbur back from his thoughts. "Yeah…this is bad alright."
"What's wrong?"
"I must'a used too much energy. My body feels weak."
"What do we do then?"
"Stick tight," he answers, "it's already too late to escape anyway."
Wilbur didn't notice them until he follows Cereus's gaze. Three people stand behind him. Perfectly still. Clad in black. The girl in the middle has her dark hair blowing in the breeze.
"Hey guys," Cereus says, "How's the weather been the last coupl'a days?"
"Been great," the girl replies, "better than you will be once we take you back to the tower."
"Well, Antares. Don' have to be so gloomy about it."
"Cereus. What'll we do with ya sometimes?" The man to her left speaks.
"Just having a little bit of fun, Valerian."
"Yeah. And breaking all intertemporal laws with it." He shakes his head.
"And you, Allysum?" Cereus asks.
The younger man with the shocking blue hair to the right keeps silent. To Wilbur, this Allysum seems uninterested in what is going on around him.
"As laconic as ever. I like that." Cereus tries to stand. "Can someone at least give me a hand here?"
"And who's this?" Valerian points to Wilbur. "Please don't tell me..."
"Just a native. Gonna help me find our criminals."
"Again! Do I not speak of intertemporal laws? Do I never speak about breaking them?" Valerian asks. His voice begins to rise at each syllable.
Cereus turns to Wilbur and whispers, "Remember our deal."
"And what's your name, soldier?" Valerian asks as he helps Cereus to his feet.
"Wil-" He catches Cereus's glance. "-son! The name's Wilson."
"Pleasure." Valerian shakes his hand. He turns to Antares, and says, "Are you ready?"
"Been."
"Hold on tight Wilson. This could be a bumpy ride." There is a slight smile on Valerian's face.
"Wait. What for?"
Antares's eyes begin to glow. Surrounding them in blinding light, and then just as suddenly receding. It feels as if the world itself is moving around them. Buildings are shifting, moving left and right, to be replaced once again.
When the light has truly vanished, gone are the spires. What replaces them are tall, alabaster columns which rise to meet an arched ceiling. Red carpet flows on the floor, across mosaic tiles, towards a throne on the far end. Eyes dart directly towards them.
What catches his attention is the stained glass window above the throne. The sun and moon shining brightly upon a garden of flowers. The yellow of the sun offsets the cool blues that surround it.
"Well, this is a surprise." The man on the throne stands to greet them. "Welcome back, Cereus."
Cereus and the others: Antares, Valerian, and Allysum, in turn, bend to one knee front of this man. Wearing black leather that seems to wrap all around him. Wilbur has seen something like that before. Like an asylum jacket. And the crown on his head, a metallic vine of jewels. Like thorns wrapping around his red hair.
Then he turns to Wilbur. "And we have a guest!"
A man to the side appears and says, "Fair traveler, be at ease in the presence of his Imperial Highness, Abraxas Soren Val'Zion. We welcome you to the Hall of the Night Blooming Flowers."
Notes: No excuses here. Sorry this took so long. Expected release of the next chapter is sometime in late December.
