Friday Fiction: A Friend You Haven't Met (Part Five)

“Hello. What took you so long?”

We both froze. Standing on the top step was a strange little figure. It looked most like a girl, but partly like a potted plant. It smiled at us and then casually floated up off the ground and toward Timmy. He stood there, eyes wide, paralyzed as she got nearer.

 I made a quick, trained assessment. It was about three feet high and dressed in a garment of long green grass. Its skin was gray, rather like dry soil, and instead of hair its head was covered with long, spiky snail shells. The eyes were beady and black, but its smile, though rather cartoonish, seemed pleasant enough; at least I sensed no menace. Certainly nothing to account for Timmy’s fear. Nothing physical, anyway. I sometimes forget how mind-blowing these things are for people who don’t have my experience. The little creature stopped and hovered about a foot from our faces.

“Maggie!” The old man finally managed a choked whisper. “Now I know I’m dreaming!”

I raised my eyebrows.

“You two know each other?”

“She … she was my imaginary friend when I was little. I never really saw her, but ….” He gulped. “She is exactly as I imagined her to be!” He crossed himself with a shaky hand. “Go away.” His voice rose. “Get thee behind me!”

“Now that’s rude!” Her voice was a little high and silvery, not really what you’d expect out of such a rough figure. “That’s no way to treat an old friend.” She sounded hurt, then looked a little sly. “Besides, if I’m behind you, you’ll never know just what I’m up to, will you?”

The old man moaned, squeezing his eyes shut. Suddenly I slapped my forehead.

“I know what this is!” I grabbed him by the arm and his eyes flew open. He seemed dismayed that I was still there.

“I think I know what’s going on. I heard a lecture on it once. Come on!” I started heading for the car. He resisted, hardly budging. I turned back.

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I can fix this! We’re just in a High Weirdness Overlap. Too many worlds are touching right now, and it’s lighting up manifestations like your little friend here! All we got to do is clear them up, and things should go back to normal. Come on, you’d better come with me.”

Still he resisted, looking dubiously between me and the floating girl, seemingly reluctant to leave the sheltering grounds of the church. His jowls quivered with uncertainty. In the urgency of the moment I lost my temper a little bit.

“Look, maybe this is only a dream. But it’s your job to fight evil, right? Well, that’s what I’m doing now. And you’re obliged to help, even if it is in dreams! And if you liked my old stories … well, this could be your last chance to be part of one!”

“I…” He hesitated, then slowly gave in to the pressure as I pulled him forward. “I … very well, I shall go.” He glanced at Maggie, who now floated at his side. He gulped. “But it is very strange.”

I looked over to my vehicle, where two shaggy, shadowy figures peered from the back seat.

“Brother Timmy, you don’t know the half of it.”

We hustled quickly over to the car, the bobbing figure of the mud girl following close behind us and Brother Timmy eying it and scurrying along as if he could outrun the phenomenon. He was so distracted that he jumped right into the front seat without noticing my other passengers.

“Sc - scat – scat!” He flapped his arms ineffectively. The thing he called Maggie eluded his shooing hands with supernatural ease, gliding in with him and sitting happily on his lap like an unwelcome dog. He held his upper body stiff, like he wanted to disassociate it with his legs and their uncanny burden.

“Enough of that,” I said, sliding into the driver’s seat. “You might as well just accept it for now. We got stranger fish to fry.” I nodded behind me. “Tim, meet Mr. Roth and Mr. Korm.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, turning in embarrassment at his predicament, and stopped cold at the sight of the two ape-like occupants of the back seat. Korm grinned in what I’m sure he thought to be a reassuring manner but showing quite a few more pointy teeth than Brother Tim was expecting. Roth just growled, arms crossed, wrinkling his nose impatiently and clacking his black nails against his armor.

“Hello there,” the skinny Morg said amicably, but I could tell from the added bewilderment on Timmy’s face that it wasn’t coming through to him. After all, I was the one with the talisman.

“Never mind, Tim,” I said, reaching over and punching open the glove compartment. “He’s just saying How-de-do. Soon as we can get these boys home, the sooner we clear things up. There’s much worse abroad and we … Ah! Here it is!” I slammed the compartment shut.

“What’s that?” the little mud girl asked, reaching out a inquisitive hand. I drew it away.

“No snatching, now,” I said. “It’s delicate. This little doodad’ll help me get a beam on things, it will.”

“It looks like an old watch,” Tim said doubtfully.

“Close, but no cigar,” I chuckled. “This is a watcher. And if I can just get it adjusted …” I pressed the crown and it popped open. I pushed down and twiddled with the latch release. The strange crew drew in around me, still a little wary of each other but prompted by curiosity. In the golden case a little needle floated in a silvery puddle.

“A compass of some kind?” Korm looked uncertain.

“Of a sort,” I agreed. I carefully twisted the latch a few turns. “But it indicates no normal directions.”

“Is it magical?” Roth asked, rough voice full of awe.

“Not in and of its nature. But it shows …” Suddenly the needle swung around of itself and pointed, wobbling but strong, directly at the mud and snail figure of Maggie on the old friar’s lap. “Ah. There you are. Well, we’ll just adjust you out. Luckily, imaginary creatures like you are pretty weak on the scale.”

“Hey!”

“Now, don’t be insulted,” I soothed. “It’s just a fact of life.” I clicked the latchet a few more spaces. “My Ma used to say it would be a dull world if we all were the same.” I held the device flat in my palm, raised it a little higher towards the back seat. I frowned and adjusted it a little more. “Odd, you’re not registering at all.”

“I told you,” said Korm. “We’re not a magical people.”

“Still, another dimension …” I began. Then my eyes went wide.

“Whoa,” I breathed. “I think I’ve found your beastie.” I tapped the watcher. “Except …”

Inside the glass case the little needle was whirling madly around, wobbling on its axis frantically, refusing to settle, even for a second, on any direction.

“It seems to be everywhere at once! Nothing has power on that scale - or nothing I’ve ever encountered, anyway.”

“Nothing in your world, anyway,” said Korm. He tangled strained claws through his long beard. “But Barek chose the Tekkel for his allies because of their arcane might. I was told even the Dark Lord grew more evil when he encountered their twisted minds.”

“Well, that’s not the most comforting news,” I observed.

“What’s he saying?” Timmy asked anxiously.

“Nothing that’ll be helped by your worrying about it.” I passed him the watcher. “Here, you keep your eye on that.” I turned the key and revved up old Bessie into life. “I’m going to hunt around a bit. Watch the needle and tell me if it does anything new. You boys in the back, I want to know if you see even a whisker that might belong to that thing.”

Notes

I don't know why I keep returning to Maggie, my old imaginary friend, in so many short stories. Perhaps because I feel so personally responsible for her; if I memorialize her, she won't entirely disappear when I'm gone. Perhaps I owe the old girl that much. 'Brother Timmy'  is kind of like me: my middle name is Timothy, after all.

St. Joseph's is based on our own St. James; it was, in fact, originally named St Joseph's.