A Fortress of Pebbles

The attic was where Dad wanted everyone to be at midnight – so that’s where everyone ended up, along with the majority of the guns. The two creepy mannequins stood watch, one at each window, surrounded by stacks of boxes. The bird clock struck 11pm – the distant call of the red-breasted nuthatch from the kitchen beneath.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” said Cassandra.

“Me too,” said Orion, reflexively.

Dad – deep in the wiry guts of a handheld radio – gave a grunt that said, Be quick about it. Mom was scribbling furiously into a journal lit by a camping lantern. She didn’t even look up.

Downstairs, Cassandra told Orion he could go first, to which he inquired if it was because she needed to take a dump. Looking for a way to get rid of him, she nodded gravely. This worked. After Orion’s quick business, he went back to the attic, and she was alone in the bathroom. Yes, the toilet seat was up and, yes, there were fresh pee spots on the rim, but such trivialities no longer bothered Cassandra. She had transcended them.

Calmly, she sat on the bathtub and withdrew the TSO-duh stone. “We have less than an hour until the world ends,” she said.

“I know,” said the TSO-duh. “I’ve been monitoring the situation. Crazy stuff.”

“I don’t want to be here,” she said. Even though she whispered, she fancied the words were being amplified by the bathtub, borne upward by pipes into the attic, deposited directly into Dad’s eardrums. “I want to leave. Before midnight. How do I contact the Masters?”

“You’d rather be with them than your family?” said the friendly dragon.

“I’d rather be a woodpecker,” she said. “In fact, I’d rather be a parrot. From the suburbs! I’d rather be anywhere but wrapped up in this… demented place.” The wall tiles – made to look like wood – had been placed there by Grandpa long ago. She traced the ceramic knots and swirls with her eyes, finding faces looking back at her.

“But your grandfather told you to be the ‘eyes and ears’ among the Masters,” said the dragon. “If you leave the house, you’re still kinda doing his bidding.”

Cassandra deflated at this. Was there no escape? The old dream washed over her – running through the labyrinth in search of something. Only now, each junction, each choice felt like an illusion – as if someone else, a million years ago, had decided which way she would turn.

She shook off the dream because some of the wall’s wood knots had pupils, and irises. They were staring at her. Blinking, in fact. Great. Early onset of the family disease.

For some reason it didn’t even bother her – much like Orion’s pee spots. She had transcended beyond the need for sanity. Dementia. Yes, she might have it. Orion might. Maybe it explained Mom and Dad’s nonsensical fights. Maybe it was, even now, radiating up from the wonderland into which Aissaba and Tassadu had fallen, infecting the family with their daily dose.

We’re all mad here, the Cheshire Cat said, holding up four of a kind. All aces of hearts.

The eyes in the wall blinked again. She sighed. Might as well ask about it. “Tassadu,” she said, “remember when you said you’d keep an eye out for pebbles being naughty?”

“Of course,” said the TSO-duh.

“Naughty mind pebbles too, right?”

“Yes. Why?” said the dragon. “Are you experiencing any strange perceptual phenomena?”

“Could you do me a favor and scan the water for fluoride? And maybe my brain for dementia?”

“Um, no,” said the dragon. “To do that effectively, I’d need to leverage other types of pebbles…” He trailed off. “Now that you mention it, though, I am detecting some strange phenomena in the vicinity. But it’s not mind magic.”

Beneath the knotty eyes, a swirl in the wood grain took the shape of a nose. A familiar looking nose, in fact.

“I didn’t notice it before,” said the dragon, “because usually pebbles have a standard size and weight…”

The nose was shaped like a potato. The moment she registered this, she saw the rest of the Master of Language’s face pop into existence, like one of those images you only see if you cross your eyes just right. In fact, she saw not just a face, but also a finger held to lips and a furtive look in the eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” said Cassandra.

Next to the Master’s visage on the bathroom wall appeared words, written by an invisible hand: If you want to leave, we can get you out.

“I’m actually having trouble locating the pebbles…” said the TSO-duh. “They keep moving when I try to read them.” The blue stone in Cassandra’s fingers flickered and grew alarmingly warm against her forehead.

“Careful!” said Cassandra. “What’s happening?”

“Sorry,” said the dragon. “Momentary over-exertion.” He laughed good naturedly, but Cassandra’s gut told her that he’d almost exerted himself into disintegration.

“Well, stop!” said Cassandra. “It’s not worth it.”

Who are you talking to? said the writing on the wall.

“What if it’s someone being naughty?” said the dragon.

It’s dangerous for me to be this close to the enemy Fortress, said the writing.

Cassandra had to remove the pebble from her forehead. Had to shut her eyes. It was too much. Not to mention that someone was knocking at the door now. Bang bang bang. “Cassandra, where the hell are you?” said Orion. “That’s what Dad wants to know. He said to tell you it’s eleven-friggin-thirty, and... Oh! That you were supposed to be at your post, like, yesterday.”

Dementia would be better than being ripped to pieces by reality – by the heartbeat in her ears, by the way time kept lurching forward, by the millions of choices everyone wanted her to make.

Suddenly, she was up. Opening the door. Pulling Orion into the bathroom.

“Hey,” he said, “you didn’t take a dump. Also, why are you crying?”

She hugged him tighter than she’d hugged anyone. Ever. He stood there, taking it, not speaking, not trying to be funny. He even hugged her back. Maybe he could feel it – that everything was about to change.

“I’m leaving,” she whispered. “I want you to come with me.”