Clash of the Worlds

“I’m just happy you’re not green any more,” she said. “It was really disgusting.”

As Eleanor helped Brendan untie his feet, Cordelia explained what had happened after the zombie bite. When she told him about being shot three times in the chest by an attack helicopter, Brendan pumped his fist in the air.

“No way! People at school are going to freak when they hear about this,” Brendan said. “So where are we, anyway? Transylvania? A volcano? What awful book did we end up in this time?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but instead ran to the nearest window to see for himself. Based on past experiences, he was nervous about what he would find. Seconds later, he spun around with a huge smile on his face.

“Guys, come check this out,” Brendan said. “We totally scored. There are no forests teeming with savage warriors, giant insects, battling colossi and bloodthirsty wolves; no Roman colosseums filled with lions and gladiators, nothing scary at all!”

Eleanor and Cordelia shared the same thought as they sprang to their feet and rushed over to the window: it was too good to be true!

But this time was totally different. As Cordelia and Eleanor peered outside, they both saw the same things: an open and vast prairie under a bright blue sky. The flat fields of grass and golden stalks of wild oats and weeds, spotted with patches of yellow and blue and purple wildflowers seemed to stretch out before them for ever. They’d never seen such a vast stretch of flat, grassy prairie before.

“Crazy, right?” Brendan said behind them. “I’m starting to wonder if Denver ever wrote a knockoff version of the Little House on the Prairie or something.”

Cordelia tore herself away from the window.

“Denver never wrote about anything remotely pleasant,” Cordelia said. “We’d better go downstairs and see what nasty things are lurking behind that beautiful landscape.”

“So, you’d better tell me what happened after I turned into a zombie,” Brendan said, leading the way back down the attic stairs. “Why are we back in the book world anyway?”

Cordelia remembered that Brendan had been out of commission during almost their entire ordeal. He didn’t know that the Storm King had come back to life, or about their mission to find the three Worldkeepers, or any of it. So she explained what had transpired while he was a zombie as they continued down towards the foyer of Kristoff House.

“But the Storm King said we could save Fat Jagger?” Brendan asked, as they arrived in the living room. “That by finding these Worldkeepers and bringing them through the Door of Ways … we would be able to undo all of the terrible havoc the book world caused to the real world? And, um, you know, also undo the zombie apocalypse that I accidentally started?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said,” Cordelia answered, sounding unsure. “Supposedly everything we need to know is in here.”

She held up Denver Kristoff’sJournal of Magic and Technology. Brendan reached out for it, but his sister pulled it back reflexively. She had already sort of assigned herself the role of official researcher and leader of the mission – she was the best at that stuff. That’s the way it normally played out, anyway, even for smaller things like simply ordering pizzas for them all when their parents were out of town. She always took charge, and they never seemed to mind.

Instead of protesting, Brendan sighed. “What makes you think we can trust the Storm King?” he asked warily. “That old sack of donkey poop hasn’t exactly been helpful ever before.”

“I don’t know that we can fully trust him,” Cordelia said. “But we didn’t have much choice. We still don’t, especially now that we’re back here.”

“He said we could save Fat Jagger!” Eleanor chimed in.

“I really don’t think Denver ever wanted the two worlds to coexist,” Cordelia added. “Why would he? It would only result in a lot of destruction, especially for his beloved characters, his creations.”

Brendan wasn’t really sure he fully believed that argument. But even if the Storm King was lying, being here seemed to be a lot better than back in that mess at the moment. He had technically died in the real world, after all.

“Well, let’s go outside and see where we are,” he said, taking a deep breath as he reached for the front door.

But just before his hand touched the knob, someone pounded the other side of the door so violently, it almost sounded like gunshots. Brendan flinched, his eyes wide.

“We know you’re in there!” a voice shouted from the front porch as a fist pounded on the door again. “Now come on out or we’re gonna start shooting!”

The three Walker children exchanged frightened glances, unsure of what to do.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” Cordelia muttered.

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The sound of guns cocking just outside the front door pushed Cordelia into action. She crept forward and gently pulled back the curtain.

Standing on the front porch were three men wearing cowboy hats and shiny gold badges. Two of the men had flannel shirts and held Winchester rifles. The man in the centre wore a huge overcoat made of grey fur and held a Colt revolver with a smooth pearl handle in his right hand.

Cordelia turned back to Brendan.

“They look like lawmen, so I’m going to try to reason with them,” she whispered. “You take Nell and go hide in the kitchen pantry. Just in case.”

“No,” Brendan protested. “You take Nell. I’m good at talking my way out of things.”

“Those are cowboys out there,” Cordelia said. “From the Old West. The men from that era were full of machismo, which meant other men threatened them. But they had a soft spot for girls and treating them properly … like ladies. I might have a better chance with them.”

“But …” Brendan started, not feeling comfortable with his sister playing the hero while he hid like a coward. Where was the glory in that? But even more than that, he simply couldn’t stomach the thought of either of his sisters facing down armed gunmen alone.

“There’s no time to argue,” Cordelia cut him off. “Do it now!”

Brendan knew she was right. He grabbed Eleanor’s hand and they headed towards the kitchen pantry. He heard Cordelia yelling at their unknown assailants just as he closed the pantry door.

“I’m going to open the door,” she shouted. “Don’t shoot, I’m an unarmed lady!”

Cordelia slowly opened the front door and then took several steps back. The men stormed inside with their guns ready. The man in the fur coat pointed his revolver right at Cordelia’s face.

“Where is he?” he demanded.

“Who?” Cordelia asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“The deadly outlaw that goes by the name Lefty Payne,” the man said.

“Lefty Payne?” Cordelia repeated. “Never heard of him.”

“He’s called Lefty on account of him only having one arm, the right one,” the man said. “But don’t let that fool you, he’s four times deadlier than most men are with two arms. He’s a wanted outlaw guilty of at least fourteen unprovoked homicides. And we know he’s hiding in here.”

Cordelia did her best to look indignant. Like she belonged in this house in the middle of the prairie.

“Well, I certainly hope you catch him,” she said. “But there’s nobody here but me. And besides, you have no right to just barge into my house like this!”

“I have no right?” he said as if he was the King of the Prairie. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“I’m afraid not,” Cordelia said.

“Sheriff Burton Abernathy,” the man said and then paused, as he pulled back his shoulders to make himself look more regal.

Cordelia’s face remained blank. Sheriff Abernathy grew visually agitated.

“Well?” he finally shouted at her. “You ain’t heard of me?”

Cordelia shook her head.