Book 3: A Penny in Time

I could not settle down, so I got up and wandered around the house. Normally, I’m not a worrywart, but I was upset that there wasn’t anymore food for Yugo, and worried what little he had had to eat would only make him hungrier when he woke up. To distract myself, I thumbed through a history book in Mr. D’s library and read the two page-history of the Perpetual City while Yugo and Mr. D slept. Their whispery snores were in sync with one another, which made me laugh out loud as I came back into the room.

I scrunched down on the couch. Yugo curled up beside me, still sound asleep, but sending warm vibes that coated me inside out. He purred and I read.

Although their civilization was thousands of years old, the history book only recounted the last thousand of years: from 999 to 2000, the city, the people, the society, everything was exactly like it had been, was and would be. The rest of the book was pictures, and I had the creepy feeling I could walk outside and find those very landmarks still in existence. Maybe, I looked over at Mr. D sleeping, the very same people. I had heard that history repeats itself, but I had never thought about it literally.

One fact snagged my attention, about the race itself. Mr. D’s genus was Mono, of the family sapiens, and reproduction was “homogenesis”, which I found in the glossary meant “reproduction in which successive generations are alike”. I folded the book shut, wondering if ‘they’ were all of like minds, too. Maybe I stood a chance against a committee that shared genes with Mr. D. Then again, maybe I didn’t, if Mr. D had mutated from the rest of ‘them’. Back and forth, back and forth went my thoughts, always leaving me flooded with doubts. I wish the whole process had started, therefore, had been decided, and was already over.

I heard rustling outside, then a thump against the door and nearly knocked Yugo off the couch when I jumped to my feet. Mr. D bolted from his chair and with his massive hand upraised, blocked me from the front door.

“No, childling, stay!”

Any other time, I might have been offended at being ordered like a dog, but Mr. D, obviously unnerved, only meant to protect me. And Yugo, I think.

“Mr. D, I don’t think anyone is trying to break in.” I pointed to the billowing curtains. “It would have been easier to come through the open window.”

He patted his chest, where I imagined his heart beat. “I have never witnessed so many strange events.” He appeared thoughtful, looking from the window to the door. “I’ve never left that window open before now. And there’s never been any disturbance at my front door.”

“Mr. D,” I took a step forward, “let’s look outside and maybe we can figure out what’s going on.”
He nodded to me. “But you must stay here.” He took purposeful strides to the door and whipped it open.

There was a brown package on the welcome mat. Mr. D stooped and gingerly peeked inside. “Oh, my!” he gasped, as I bumped into his back.

“What is it?” I knelt beside Mr. D, nudging his leg to get a closer look, trying to send reassuring vibes to Yugo so he would stop his frightened mewing.

“It’s…” Mr. D plucked the bag up and smiled at me, a rather pained smile I thought, “a care package. For Yugo.”

Mr. D stepped over me, back inside. “Well, Dusty, I dare say that Yugo will have something good to eat, real food for the nuzzling. I’ll fix it and you feed him.”

After I dusted off my knees, though I really didn’t have to because there wasn’t any dirt on my jeans, I followed Mr. D into the kitchen. Yugo had slipped off the couch and was waddling behind me. “Look at him, Mr. D! Isn’t he cute?”

Mr. D kept his back to me. “Who would do such a thing, leave this for a misbegotten?” he mused, fussing over the large nursing bottle.

I hadn’t forgotten that Mr. D called Yugo ‘nuzzling’, which I thought might be an affectionate term. “Maybe his mother did. Or someone else who doesn’t think it’s right for babies to be left out in the desert to die.” I took the bottle from Mr. D, who frowned like my old principal did the time he caught me swearing when I slammed my locker shut on my left hand.

Yugo pawed at my legs until I picked him up. He snatched at the bottle, giving short ‘yurps’ as he suckled and I tried to balance both him and the bottle with my hands. Mr. D marched out of the kitchen, leaving me alone and wondering what I had said to upset him.

Yugo must have sensed my confusion, for he stopped sucking long enough to peer at me intently, and suddenly a lot of unfriendly faces flashed through my head. Mr. D must be as anxious as I was about this upcoming confrontation. Maybe he had mixed emotions about which side he was going to be on, or what the outcome would be for Yugo and me. I had only begun to appreciate how hard it must be for him to accept changes, let alone campaign for them. But there was someone else out there who wanted to help us, too.

“Mr. D,” I walked over to his chair and he looked up at me, “if there are two of you that feel the way I do about Yugo, then maybe there’s a lot more. We might stand a good chance of convincing the Perfect Council yet.”

Yugo started hiccupping. Mr. D’s nostril flared and he sighed, impatiently waving his hand at Yugo. “He needs to be patted on the back.”

I flipped Yugo over my shoulder and burped him. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Mr. D, something that’s troubling you. And it’s not Yugo, is it?” I put him down on the couch.
Yugo was content to settle between the cushions and go back to sleep. He seemed to have grown another six inches since I had fed him. Yugo gave back to me the love I felt for him as I scratched his head and I was reluctant to let go of the good feelings that flowed between us. But I had to get some things clear. I went over and sat on a footstool in front of Mr. D and waited for him to speak.
He cleared his throat a couple of times. “You’re right, Dusty. Something is wrong, very wrong.” He startled me by reaching over and touching my cheek lightly, then continued. “You have read,” he gestured to the closed history book on the arm of the couch, “about our history. Was it not extraordinary?”

The way he said it, gave me the impression he meant it in a negative way. “Yeah,” I replied, “I thought it was a bit odd.”

“In what way?” he asked kindly, leaning closer to me.

“Two pages about a perfect society. I mean, I guess I thought history told about wars, conflicts, changes, you know, all that happens over years and years. Like evolution.”

“Exactly.” He smacked his hands and smiled like I had answered the winning quiz question.

“Exactly what?” I retorted, baffled by his smug expression.

“Our recorded history begins with the perfected society.” He massaged his knees. “From the time of our recorded history, there are no wars, no unresolved conflicts amongst us. That is why we can exist in the Perpetual City in harmony, a totally homogeneous society. There is no poverty here, for here everything is in balance with our resources. Even our arts and sciences have reached the state of perfection, where all needs are satisfied, for each and everyone of us. Everyone is alike, and there is always agreement. Every action is carefully considered, every consideration balanced. Our marriage contracts are forever and each couple rears two offspring until the age of twenty-one, one quarter of a life span. We are a self-perpetuating society.”

He paused and took a breath. I let all this information sink in, trying to pinpoint what it was that disturbed me. After all, it sounded just fine to me. “Families stay together, right?”

“Yes.” Mr. D locked eyes with me.

“I don’t see the problem.” I held his gaze for a long minute.

“Couples partner for a lifetime; there is no such thing as separation. Each misbegotten comes from an unlawful union, and threatens the balance. Ergo, there cannot be misbegottens.”

Mr. D stroked his chin, and I was hypnotized by the long, silken strands undulating along his arm. I knew his reasoning was wrong. “What about love?” I blurted out, startling both of us.

“There are many forms of love, Dusty,” he answered quietly, and I detected a note of sadness, too. “The good of all is the highest form of love, is it not?”

But before I could answer him, there came a resounding knock on the door. This time Mr. D seemed neither surprised nor unprepared as he opened the door.

“It’s a summons for us to go to the courthouse immediately.”

“Well,” he sighed, “perhaps we may have to come to a compromise. Let me propose this: I shall call you Dusty, and you may call me,” he paused and squinted, but I think beneath the pained expression might have been a glint of humor, “Mr. D only,” and he emphasized it again, “only when we are by ourselves. It is especially important for you to remember this when we come before the Perfect Council. Do we have an agreement?”

“Sure,” I stuck my hand out and we shook on it. “Now, we’d better get some food for Yugo. He’s awfully hungry.”

Mr. D bristled. “I cannot. We must wait for the Perfect Decision.”

“Mr. D,” I felt an upsurge of anger that swept away all the cobwebs from my head, “Yugo’s fate will be decided whether or not he has a full stomach. I wouldn’t let you go hungry. You talk about ‘the way things are, the way things must be’, but have you no sense of what is right or wrong?”

Yugo really perked up while I made my speech and punctuated my sentences with sharp squeals. Mr. D appeared rather stunned, like he had been frozen for a couple of centuries in the same spot. He must have considered what I said, because his face thawed into a smile.

“I believe there might be something that the misbegotten could ingest. Come with me to my house.”
I didn’t see that we had much choice, whether or not to go to Mr. D’s house or back to the desert. This is the sort of situation you never want to try to explain to your parents, how sometimes you know you’re not supposed to do something, but you don’t have much of a choice, or if you have, you don’t know it.

I think Yugo must have been telling me that it was all right, because I got a sense of being in the right place at the right time. Although I thought it pretty strange that I was here, thinking about right time and place. Some of our immediate problems were taken care of, like we were inside the city, not out, so we were some place, not lost, and we at least had the promise of being fed and sheltered. I would really rather be at home, where I know it would be no problem taking care of Yugo or myself, for that matter. If I want unreasonable, I have my Dad.

We were the only ones walking along the quiet, empty streets. Rows of houses bordered the sidewalks, spaced like a perfectly planted garden of lettuce heads all in a row. “Where are all the others, Mr. D?”

“Oh, childling,” he chuckled, “everyone has a place to be and is there. There is no reason for anyone to be about at this time.”

“Is it day or night, Mr. D?” Yugo was asleep again and I could swear he had grown in just the short time we had been here.

“It is,” he answered, then added, probably because I looked like I felt, annoyed, “one and the same, here. There is no change of season, either.”

“I see.” Inside, I recoiled at the thought of sameness, the color of gray. Yugo stirred but did not awaken.

We walked on, up one, then down another sidewalk, like we were in a brightly lit maze winding through the city, until we stopped in front of one drab, medium-sized house that looked exactly like the other beside it, with one tree per patch of brownish front lawn.

“How do you know which house is yours, Mr. D?” I asked, not even trying to disguise my disgust.
“Why, I’ve always lived here! Third house from the last, the right side of the street. Simple.” He motioned me to enter, and before the door shut behind us, I got a quick look at the etched nameplate on the door, “Mr. dIAmand” in small, block letters.

“Oh, boy,” I looked around, not the least surprised that the living room had an easy chair, one couch, a coffee table, with no magazines or clutter anywhere, and each visible room had the same off-white walls with light green fabric curtains pulled neatly in two halves from the windows. “Nice place you’ve got here, Mr. D.” I plopped down on the couch and let Yugo burrow beside me.

“Yes, well, thank you. I shall be back momentarily with food for Yugo. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Sure, and thanks!” I called after him as he hurried to the kitchen. Mr. D didn’t seem all that stuffy now that we were here at his house, almost like he was happy to have us staying with him. Maybe he had really wanted to do the right thing and take care of Yugo, but didn’t want, or couldn’t, put himself in the position to be responsible for that kind of decision. I had no idea what it was going to be like before the Perfect Council, but I made up my mind I wasn’t going to let it scare me, or make me do what I knew wasn’t right. Of course, I didn’t like to think too much about what ‘they’ could make me do; I had some ugly images of blood, gore and torture. But surely, this space and place was civilized, or so I hoped. Then I looked down at Yugo, softly sleeping against my leg, and questioned how these beings could throw away their own babies and not care for them. Maybe ‘they’ wouldn’t care if I was a kid or not, no rules need apply here about what’s fair or decent or right. I only prayed that I knew what I was doing when it came time to stand up and face the Perfect Council. I was sure that Mr. D wouldn’t or couldn’t offer much more assistance, and since Yugo was the problem, he sure couldn’t do much in the way of helping.

Mr. D came back into the living room with a huge glass of thick, chalky stuff that smelled a lot like my old tennis shoes. “I’m sorry to say that’s all I have for him.”

Maybe to change the subject quickly, he blurted, “I have been informed that soon we will go before the Perfect Council, Eliz…Dusty.” He sat down in the easy chair, clasping his hands together and shaking his fur to lay smooth. “They have agreed to meet in six hours.”

“Why so long, why can’t we get it over with sooner?” I had difficulty getting the milkshake fast enough into Yugo’s demanding mouth. He slurped and gurgled while I tried not to slop any of it onto the couch, let alone worry about what was getting on me. I was going to look real nice after this feeding, just perfect enough to go before the Council.

“Oh, no sooner! Everyone will want to attend and hear the outcome. It has become a major issue, and we will be very anxious to know the decision concerning the misbegottens. It will affect us all, one way or the other.” For a moment, Mr. D lost his smile and I had a flash of misgiving. “This has created a great deal of talk amongst us, you bringing the misbe…Yugo, here inside the city. I don’t think it will be an easy decision for the Council. No,” he stood and paced between the dining room and living room, “I don’t think this is going to be easy for any of us. Your being here has disrupted us already; we cannot be the same as we were before you came. But I don’t know,” he stopped in front of me, clearly distressed, “if this is for the better or not!”

“Changes are always hard, even if they’re good for you,” I replied, wiping the last glob of liquid from Yugo’s chin. “But isn’t that life? Don’t we grow and change all the time?” I peered up at Mr. D. “Or do you like living the life of a robot?”

“Oh, childling,” he huffed, straightening to his full impressive height, “there’s nothing wrong with life being predictable.”

I looked pointedly from Yugo to Mr. D. “Something’s wrong with this society, something’s really wrong. And I bet there are some of you that aren’t real happy with the way things are.”

“Well,” he stammered, “I suppose you always have malcontents, in any society. But not enough to influence the whole network.”

“If you’re so happy with the way things are, then why did you take us in?” I felt I was ice skating across the Atlantic, but if I couldn’t make Mr. D see my point of view, I knew I was in for some real trouble up ahead.

He drummed his fingers on the fireplace mantel, answering in a low voice, “Because, Dusty, you’re right. Something is wrong, terribly wrong with our society. And I hope,” his head turned ever so slowly, his eyes seeking mine in a hard stare, “you can effect changes. You’re the only one that can.”
There seemed nothing more to say and Mr. D sat down again. I wondered just how I was going to convince ‘them’. I held onto the thin thread of hope that if I could change Mr. D’s mind, I could change the Perfect Council. I had to: it was so obviously the right thing to do that I knew I had no choice. I hoped that if I never got back home, my Mom would somehow know what I had done and be proud of me.

Yugo stretched and purred, flopping into my hands like a cat does, totally relaxed and contented. Without a worry. Mr. D reclined in his chair, with his head thrown back and eyes shut, probably asleep, too. I was wide awake, along with all my concerns. I felt like we had used up some brownie points, and I sure hoped we hadn’t emptied the cookie jar just yet. Because, I thought as I tucked Yugo close against my leg while he slept easy, what we needed was another minor miracle.

“Childling, what are you doing here?”

Well, wasn’t that the question of the year! Before I could answer, the creature, I’d guess at least eight feet tall, shook his pearly mane and scolded, “It’s much too late for you to be out.”

He seemed to know me and I had a feeling I knew this shaggy, but well-groomed creature that towered over me, extending a paw-like hand towards me. His fur was satiny-white and he had liquid brown eyes beneath puckered eyebrows in a rather stern, human-like face. It was not an unkind face, just not too friendly. Yugo, snuggled in my arms, wasn’t the least bit afraid of him, either, not that I could sense. But Yugo also didn’t give out any information on this guy, which left me wondering if I should shake his hand or what.

I’d trust my instincts. I clasped his hand and replied, “Please call me Dusty.”

“Humph,” he squeezed my hand and let go, “‘Dusty’ is not a proper name, Elizabeth Conner.”

Now I knew why he felt so familiar, he reminded me of my Dad.

“Come along,” he took a key from a big ring and unlocked the gate, a soft clicking echoing throughout the deserted streets. “You may call me Mr. dIAmand.” He swung the gate open and as I took a step, he stopped me with an upraised hand. “You must,” he pointed to Yugo, “leave the misbegotten outside the city walls. It must return to the desert.”

“No!” I shot back, without a moment’s hesitation, heartened by my voice ringing in the still night air. “Yugo and I stay together. I must get some food for him. He’s starving.” I stroked Yugo and he purred. “Maybe you can help find his parents.” I smiled at the man-thing, seeing a resemblance between him and Yugo. Yugo would probably grow up to look a lot like Mr. dIAmand.

“It is not possible,” he rejoined, stepping over the threshold into the city. “Misbegottens are not allowed here in the Perpetual City.”

“But he’s one of your kind!” I shrieked. “You can’t leave Yugo to die out in the desert! You can’t!” No one could be that cruel.

Yugo burrowed deeper into my arms. We both felt terrified that we’d be left outside to die.
The keys jingled and I realized Mr. dIAmand’s hand trembled as he spoke. “It isn’t done. The misbegottens do not come back. You must understand, there is no place for them.” He met my eyes, and I thought I saw sadness in them. “You mustn’t interfere with the way things are here, Elizabeth Conner.”

I took three steps over to him, facing him so that he could not avoid looking me in the eyes while I spoke. “Is that the way things are done here? Murder of the innocents?”

“No!” he boomed. “These misbegottens are not innocent! They accept that they must not be.” Then with a careful gesture, he touched my shoulder with his shaggy hand. “Do not take it upon yourself to change things. You cannot make what is acceptable seem wrong. This cannot be tolerated!”

I sounded a lot braver than I felt, but I had too much to lose to give in to him, even if my own life depended on his help. “It’s murder, Mr. dIAmand, and you’ll be a murderer.”

“I am only responsible for you!” He thundered, cutting great arcs with his hand-paw. “I can do nothing for the misbegotten. Now come along!”

“Who says?” I challenged.

“Who says?” hooted Mr. dIAmand, clearly puzzled.

“Who makes all these rules and says you’re only responsible for me and not for Yugo?”

I had obviously asked the right question by the smug look on Mr. D’s face and the sound of his voice. “Why, the Perfect Council decided these matters long before you or I were born, Elizabeth Conner.”
“Well then, Mr. D, we’ll challenge the Perfect Council. You’ll be only responsible for me, as I assume full responsibility for Yugo.” I had a vague notion that Mr. D was in a bind; he must have been assigned to take care of me and I meant to use that to my advantage. “I won’t go with you if you won’t ask the Perfect Council to consider my case for Yugo.”

All the while Yugo mewed I stroked him, offering him all the comfort I could muster. I banked on Mr. D’s sense of ‘responsibility’ as being about as rigid as he was.

“Excellent idea Elizabeth Conner! We shall do that. Now, please come along.” He stood aside for me to walk by and I kept Yugo tucked out of reach, for I wasn’t real sure Mr. D wouldn’t snatch Yugo and throw him away.

“Elizabeth Conner,” Mr. dIAmand brought his hand gently upon my shoulder, “you mustn’t call me any name other than my rightful one. It isn’t proper.”

Yugo still needed food and I had pushed Mr. D about as far as I thought I could, but I was stuck on a principle. “In a way, I understand that. You call me Dusty and I’ll call you Mr. dIAmand.” I stretched as tall as I could make myself and looked Mr. D in the eye.

“But, childling, I must call you by your rightful name. Surely, you can understand that?” He asked so sincerely, so clearly baffled, that I had to reply with the very truth of the matter.

“It offends me.” I didn’t want to go into all the whys and wherefores, so I added, “For reasons of my own.”

He studied me, which gave me a chance to look him over, too. He really was quite beautiful, with long, shiny hair that begged to be brushed and stroked. He had a nice face, but one that I doubt I could remember or describe, other than it was nice. I guess that’s why he reminded me of my Dad, only Mr. D had a lot more hair.

He must have been puzzled, too. I don’t think he had any idea of what a light was, or sunshine. Try explaining it sometime. It really stretches the brain cells. Popped a few of mine, for sure.

“Never mind, Yugo. I’ll know it if I see it.” Which I didn’t, right at the moment. Everything still looked basically the same gray nothingness that covered acres and acres of land. The sky was still a washed-out colorless sheet overhead and the rocks were even all one color of non-color. “This would depress a saint, Yugo. So imagine how I feel.”

I wish I hadn’t said that, because he did imagine how I felt. Emotions were not a small matter to Yugo and the fleeting moment of hopelessness came back to me magnified. I would have to be more careful, more precise what I meant and to what degree, or I would be too overwhelmed by despair to get up and go on.

I stood, bent over and picked him up, giving him a firm hug. “We’re not without hope! We’re not going to give up!” I thought then, I would go straight ahead, keep moving until a better idea hit me. As I picked my way down over the rocks, off over my left shoulder, I spotted a bright mass. “Yugo!” I yelped for joy and just about lost my footing. “I think it’s a city! Yes, it could be! Hold on!”

I scrambled down from the last rocky shelf, stumbling and almost falling, but Yugo clung to me with an iron grip that amazed me, I’d thought of him as almost helpless. Just as I started forward, I felt a rumbling behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw a landslide of rocks coming down on us.

My first thought was Yugo. I hunched over, trying to cover him with as much as my body as I could while squeezing under the shelf I had jumped off. Pebbles and stones rained down, pattering the sand, stacking up as a wall around us.

Yugo cried and I felt him quaking in my arms. “It’s all right,” I reassured him, hoping he would believe me, “we aren’t hurt and I’ll dig us out of here.” When I thought it safe enough, I once again put Yugo in the carrier-scarf and began plucking one by one at the rocks until there was an opening large enough for us to crawl out.

I was so happy, relieved and excited that I think I must have had the strength of Hercules to carry us all the way across the long stretch of sand that sucked at my feet. It was like running a marathon at Alki Beach, but in spite of the slowing down, I jogged at a steady pace, stopping short of the locked gate that led into the city of lights.

I was winded, but awfully happy to be here where there might be civilized beings. The whole place was lit up, the light radiating was clean, clear and bright. The buildings were huge, like gigantic polished mirrors that made what I realized was not a big city but more of a fortress, look so much bigger than it was.

“Our problem now, Yugo,” I petted him and felt a hundred smiles inside of me, “is to get inside somehow.” I absolutely had no doubt we would and could get there and get help. “I like to hear you purr, little guy.”

I could tell he didn’t like being strapped over my chest, so I undid the scarf, put him down while I tied the scarf around my waist, and then picked him again. I continued stroking him absent-mindedly while I searched for a doorbell or entrance. I no longer felt panicky, but figured it was just a matter getting someone’s attention and we would be let inside. The last thing I figured on was Yugo biting me. “Ow! You brat!” I howled, shaking my hurt hand and hopping around, while I still held on to Yugo. “You’re just lucky I didn’t drop you on your face!” I examined my hand closely. No blood, but a lot of pain.

“Why’d you do that, anyway?” I peered into his face, and I didn’t think he looked the least bit sorry, so I gave him a little shake and asked again, “Why did you bite me?”

Well, I guess if I’d been listening, I’d known the poor thing was hungry, more like starved. He must have thought I’d slacked off my efforts when I gawked so long at the city lights.

“All right, I understand, but remember it’s me you’re dealing with, and you shouldn’t hurt your only friend.” I snuggled him closer. “If you do it again, I’ll put you down and you’ll have to keep up with me any way you can, understand?” I think he took it as an empty threat, but I thought I could do it and would if he bit me again.

I grabbed the gate and rattled it, but it was solid didn’t make any noise. I had been so happy to get here that I hadn’t even considered the possibility of not getting inside. There was no way for me to climb over the six-foot metal fence, as it was smooth and slick, no footholds anywhere. So close, yet so far.

We’d come such a long way to get here, across a desert, chased by a demon, pelted by a rock slide, only to find out that we couldn’t get in. We’d risked out lives to get here, and I wasn’t going to let Yugo die. “Hey! Hey, someone, anyone!” I shouted, louder and louder. My echoes repeated, mocking me. “Someone, help! We need help!”

Even as I was shouting and peering through the slats of the gate, I thought it odd no one was in sight. I mean no one, no activity at all. The streets, sidewalks and storefronts were spotless and gleamed in the reflection of the lit-up buildings, making it all the more eerie because the city seemed lifeless. I listened real hard, turning my attention outward away from my thoughts or Yugo. I heard nothing. I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I screamed. Clutching Yugo, I backed up against the fence and stared, mouth wide open at the awesome, nasty looking dude in front of me.

I awoke with a jolt, squarely on my butt, not knowing where I was or if I were dreaming. Or what. The last thing I remembered was holding Sparky and a fistful of pennies and falling into a black hole. I examined my hands, empty, except for little bits of soft dirt, but no scratches. Still had the band-aid on my right thumb. My heart hammered like it might burst and I was panting like a dog. I guess I had to admit I was scared, because this place was like nothing I had ever seen. I listened and heard the stillness of nothing.

And here I was, in the middle of nowhere. Everything around me was a shade of gray: the sky was ashen, like the aftermath pictures I had seen of Mt. St. Helens; the dirt wasn’t brown but ashy-colored and fine, and felt like old newspaper crumbling in my hands; and as far as I could see, a fog covered the ground. Even the bushes were drab and scraggly. No trees, but way off I could make out the outline of mountains.

I got up, and where I had sat were the five pennies. I picked each one up and pocketed them, wiping my hands clean on my jeans. I didn’t know where I was or where I should be, or where I was going to go, but I thought I’d better start walking. I expected to stumble over headstones, for this had to be some kind of cemetery, for sure. But there was nothing but vast stretches of nothing. Maybe I was in the ‘Twilight Zone’.

The mist swirled and curled around my legs, sweeping over my arms, but I felt neither cold nor damp like fog can make you feel. I felt nothing. I concentrated on counting my heartbeats. At least I’m alive, or I think I am.

I thought I’d better take my bearings, try to memorize my route. I turned around; behind me I saw the mist cover the path I had been walking. In front of me, maybe two or three feet ahead, there was a scrawny bush. It moved. Or did I just imagine it?

Well, I had to find out. When I approached the bush, the movement stopped. My skin crawled, like tiny ants moved up my arms and across my neck. Words froze in my throat, and the only noise that I made was sort of a stuttering hum. The bush chattered and I jumped back. I saw two tiny eyes peering at me, two specks of red lights in a furry face. I knelt down, close but not close enough to touch the creature. It hummed back the same sound I had made.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” I whispered, wondering if it would hurt me. “Come on, come out. I won’t hurt you,” I repeated louder, offering my hand like you would for a dog to sniff. It burrowed down into the dirt, all but covered itself, except for those eerie little eyes.

It stayed beneath the bush, hidden by the crackling twigs for a long time. I couldn’t leave it there, even though I told myself that I should be worried about myself. I felt incredibly lonely, like if I walked away from this creature, I’d be even more lost. Finally, it wiggled, shaking off the dirt and snapping off pieces of the brush as it ventured forth to almost-touching distance of my hand. It was small and cute like a baby koala bear! I waited, barely breathing, for it to come nearer. When it nuzzled my hand, I slowly brought my other hand over and started stroking its downy fur. “See,” I murmured, “I said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

It answered me with a hum, the same soft monotone of my voice. “You like that, don’t you?” I kept petting it and it kept humming, mimicking the sound of my voice.

“Poor, little thing,” I scratched its delicate, pointed ear, and took a good look at it. It had a furry body with a face and hands more human-like than animal. “Are you lost, too?” I asked.

It whimpered, sounding just like a baby tired after crying too long. “Come on, then, I’ll pick you up and we’ll look for your parents.” I scooped it up and it snuggled into my arms while I continued stroking it from its head down the middle of its back. It had no tail, but feet with thick pads and five toes. Surely, its mother and father were trying to find it. But where to look? Where to begin? Now, both of us together were in the middle of nowhere.

I don’t know how or why, but I got the impression that it didn’t have anyone who cared for it. The thought came so suddenly and so surely that I knew it was true. I felt a searing pain inside me, of loss and want and not knowing the why of it. “It’s okay,” I crooned, “I’ll figure something out pretty soon.”

I felt a rush of warmth as I looked down at this little creature in my arms, unsure whether the feeling was mine, or it gave the feeling to me. “Whatever,” I answered myself out loud, “I guess we share and share alike.”

“Do you have a name?” I held the creature at arm’s length and stared into its eyes.

“You go!” ripped every thought from my mind, making me gasp in shock and pain.

My head throbbed and I felt like crying. I pressed the creature closer to my chest and waited for the flood of feelings to subside. For a few quiet moments, I tried to come up with a logical explanation for what was happening. As if anything here made sense! But if, and I thought it pretty far-fetched, if we were sharing thoughts, it could be that “You go!” was the only thing it had heard before I had spoken to it. At least it made some sense and gave me the feeling that I was right.

“Well, let’s see.” I stroked it, using every ounce of good feeling I had to impart as a means of comfort as I ran through a list of names, but none suited it. “Okay, how about Yugo?” I suggested in my nicest, softest voice. “Maybe we can change the bad feeling into something good, what do you say?”

The tangled mess of feelings in my gut unraveled and I relaxed. “Good, then Yugo, we’ve got one problem solved!” Which made me feel wonderful, except we were still at the same spot we were five minutes ago.

Yugo yelped. I felt his fear like a bolt of lightning through me. I don’t know if I heard it, sensed it or saw it, but I do know I was running as fast as I could. Then in a fast glance back I saw a lot of mean something after us. I bolted, putting distance between us and some nasty fangs hot on my heels.

I clutched Yugo tight to my chest and dashed for the mountains, making out a possible hiding place. I ran, gasping and with a stitch in my side. It seemed like a hundred miles later I wedged us behind a big boulder. Whatever that thing was, big, four-footed and ugly as a rabid dog, snarling and pacing around the rock, it wanted us, but couldn’t get at us. I told myself that I should be really afraid, but I wasn’t. We could wait it out, and it would go away soon. It did.

“Yugo, that was close,” I peered out, inspecting our surroundings. “Whatever is that thing?”

‘Not good!’ Punctuated my thoughts.

“Not good,” I repeated aloud. Yeah, I guess it wasn’t good. “Where do we go from here?”

But I got no answer on that one. Yugo was sound asleep. Me, I was too hyper to sleep, yet exhausted, too. So I sat on top of the flat part of the boulder and rocked Yugo while I looked over the horizon. I really had become attached to this little guy, like he was a part of myself that I understood on a gut level. He wasn’t the least bit heavy or hard to carry. I thought how strange, like my arms should be tired by now. But hardly anything made sense here on this forsaken planet without moon, or stars, or for that matter, day or night. I recapped what I did know, very little at that: I had Yugo, who had me, and we had between us, a sharing. But practically, we had nothing. No food, water, or shelter. I didn’t feel cold, hot or hungry, just all these crazy, mixed-up emotions.

Yugo must have had parents and a home at one point in his life, but he wasn’t saying if he remembered. Maybe it was best he didn’t remember, for the pain might be unbearable. Didn’t I know how it felt when someone you loved suddenly stopped caring for you?

“Are you awake, little guy?” He stretched, tensed and relaxed, then nodded off again. “It’s not going to be easy for me to find some place for us to go, unless you can help.” But he didn’t seem to hear, or least he didn’t respond.

Where do you go when you don’t know where you are?

I did know I had left nothing behind me, and as far as I could see, there was nothing to the right or left of us, except a huge mountain. I had to scale the steep slope and look around. What would I do with Yugo? I had to have my hands free. Then it hit me! Of course, I could wrap Yugo in my scarf and use my scarf as a carrier.

I woke Yugo when I put him down beside me. “It’s okay,” I answered his whine, “I’ll show you what I have in mind.” I unwound the scarf, scooped him up and gently placed him down on it, criss-crossing the ends. “Look, I’ll carry you while I climb over these rocks to get to the top and see if there is a place for us to go.” I hugged him close as I could without smothering him and tied the ends.

I could tell Yugo didn’t much like my idea, but he did understand we didn’t have much of a choice. I had hoped he would remember something useful and relay it, but he didn’t and I began the long, hard climb over the dark side of the mountain towards the top with Yugo mewing all the way.

“Listen! This is no picnic for me,” I huffed and puffed, pulling us over another rock. The closer I got to the top, the further it seemed to be. We were getting nowhere. Finally, I had to stop and sit down to rethink a new plan.

“Is there no light?” I asked Yugo once I had unstrapped him and stuffed my scarf into my pants pocket.