The Golden Telescope

18 - RESCUE

PORTLAND, OREGON – PRESENT DAY

Jack slumped on his bed.

What in the world am I going to do now?

Getting up, he walked to the small window and cautiously pulled the corner of the shabby beige curtain away from the wall, just enough to sneak a peek outside.

Sure enough, there was Victor, standing about 20 feet away, arms folded, staring in Jack's direction. He was still wearing the same black leather bomber jacket and beanie he had on earlier.

Crap!

He quickly released the drape and jumped back away from the window, heat rising in his cheeks. He was furious.

They weren't kidding! Am I a prisoner now, or something?

He paced back and forth.

Think, think, think. How can I reach Bart?

Looking around his small space, he began searching for anything that might be of some use. Short of sending smoke signals, he had nothing. And even that was a joke. He couldn't start a fire with what was in his room to save his life. And he was afraid saving his life was precisely what he required at this moment.

He flopped back down on the flimsy red and gray plaid blanket covering most of his mattress.

Maybe I can try to sneak out the front door while they are sleeping. That might be my best shot.

He scanned the room; his eyes landed on a black handle poking out from under his bed. He bent over and pulled out the dust-covered overnight bag he used for camping and sleepovers at Bart's. I should pack. He slapped the bag a few times, then tossed it down and unzipped it.

He stood, staring at the thing for a few moments, trying to sort through his life's possessions, not entirely sure what was essential and what wasn't when running away. Toiletries, he thought, then grimaced at the prospect of going upstairs to the bathroom, facing his aunt and uncle again.

Then, an idea struck him.

There was a window in that bathroom.

*****

Arthur stood, invisible and undetected, in the corner of a dank, poorly lit basement. Across the room, standing over a badly chipped black metal bed, was Jack.

He recalled the small figure, sleeping soundly in his bed all those years ago, and smiled fondly at the memory. The boy had grown into a young man, and his dark chocolate hair had become considerably wilder, as he was continually brushing it out of his eyes. He was slender, had fair skin and delicate features, and was wearing a soft-looking gray turtleneck with faded blue jeans.

Arthur frowned, listening to Jack talking aloud to himself, clearly agitated and searching for something. After his experience attempting to retrieve Ethan, Arthur was nervous about this encounter with Ross and Faith's younger son, so he stood silently, assessing the situation.

"No, that window's too narrow. There's no way I'll get out through there," the boy mumbled under his breath, closing his eyes and rubbing them with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand before thoughtfully stroking his jawline. He shook his head back and forth. "Even if I got out, Victor is right there!"

He groaned and turned around, dropping onto the bed once more. Jack's fear was all the convincing Arthur needed.

The butler removed his plain brown hat, unveiling himself, and gently smoothed the strands of chestnut-colored hair back into place.

"Jack," he said softly.

Jack shot up off the bed and whipped around to look at the space behind him. Standing before him was a distinguished-looking gentleman in a gray-brown suit holding two hats in his left hand and placing his right index finger to his lips.

"Shh..." he whispered, "I'm here to help you."

"Who...who are you? Jack asked in a surprised whisper. "And how'd you get in here?"

Adrenalin was coursing through Jack's veins. This final surprise was all the shock Jack's body needed to initiate an attack. He began wheezing, his breath coming in fits and spurts, and there was the familiar tightness in his chest that caused him such intense discomfort. Digging into his pants pocket, he pulled out his inhaler and shoved it into his mouth. The man watched as he did this, concern evident in his furrowed brow. Arthur waited for Jack to recover before cautiously proceeding to answer his questions.

"My name is Arthur." He finally replied. "Your grandfather, Edward, sent me to rescue you," he said. Shuffling the hats in his left hand, he grabbed onto the smaller newsboy-style one and held it out.

"Here, I have a photo of you with your family. It's the same picture your father carried around with him inside his military hat. I brought it hoping it would help you believe me.

Jack watched him warily, still not moving. How could he trust this random stranger who had just popped into his room? But, at the same time, this man felt different.

"Please don't be afraid," Arthur continued, "I know you're in danger...and your grandfather wanted nothing more than to help you."

Jack cautiously walked around the end of the bed, moving toward Arthur so that he could get close enough to peer down into the hat. Observing its contents, he reached inside and removed the photo. Then looked up at Arthur.

"I need to see this in better light," he said, and he motioned to the lamp next to the bed,

"You stay there," he said, putting his hand up, and then as an afterthought, "Please," and he turned away, walking to the other side of the room.

Jack bent over the little table and pulled the photo closer to his face, analyzing.

"You're the smaller boy, standing in front of your dad. Your mum is holding Sadie, and your older brother, Ethan, is standing next to you."

Jack stood up and looked at him.

"What's that accent you've got?" He asked. "Where are you from?"

Jack started walking back toward Arthur when the squeak of a door opening at the top of the staircase made them freeze.

"Quickly! There's no time to explain!" Arthur said under his breath, "Put on this hat! I brought it for you. It's a transporter."

Jack's eyes shot from the strange man before him to his bedroom door and back again. His heart was hammering in his chest.

"You can trust me, Jack," Arthur said. "I'll take you to safety."

There was something about the man's eyes that communicated trust, loyalty— love, even. Jack listened anxiously as the heavy footsteps descended the stairs on the other side of his bedroom door. Then, grabbing the cap from Arthur's hand, he raised his arm to place it on his head.

"Take my hand," Arthur reached out, simultaneously placing his hat on his head, and they vanished.