The Lark Taps Twice

Chapter 7: A Forgotten Gift Reveals Its Secret

The two of them stayed up late into the night. Somewhere in the conversation, they got around to introducing themselves, and Miriam gave him an abbreviated version of her history with the lark and the events of the past couple of days. The shopkeeper's name was Jim Logain, and he claimed his great - great - great - grandfather was among the first settlers in the area; the museum she sought was located on Logain Avenue, named for his ancestors' contributions to building the fort.

He couldn't tell her the museum's hours, or even if they would still keep those hours, given that he rarely visited that part of town, and that he had never visited the place beyond an elementary school tour or two. He had no idea why she might have been sent there, either, but he promised to drive her there as soon as the sun chased the wraiths back into their hiding places for the day.

As their conversation trickled down into drowsy phrases, Jim rumbled, "You mentioned the lark brought you gifts each year, and you told me about four of them. What did the lark bring you this year?"

She skimmed her memories and realized she never opened the small flat package the lark thrust at her nearly two days ago. Where is it? Do I even still have it?

While she sat frozen, her thoughts chasing each other in circles, the lark hopped off her lap and over to a chest at the end of the bed. Miriam recognized her jacket, folded neatly until the bird took a beakful of the dark fabric and shook his head. With the jacket open, his silver crest of feathers disappeared into the inside breast pocket, emerging again a second later with the missing present. A crease broke the smooth paper wrapping diagonally, but the package was otherwise intact.

With a cheerful chirp, the little bird jumped its way back to Miriam's lap and dropped the packet in her upturned hand; his head twisted to the side, and he stared at her with anticipation. Miriam smiled her gratitude and turned her attention to the gift. What wonderful thing might be in such a thin package? she pondered even as her fingertips made quick work of the simple knot in the twine holding the bundle together.

When the rough brown threads fell away, a loose flap on the paper lifted, and Miriam teased it open with her thumbnail. Once the first flap was completely unfurled, three more detached themselves from each other and opened, revealing ... nothing. The inside of the brown wrapping paper was blank, and she saw no evidence of any object having been inside, ever. She brushed her hand across the center of the paper, just in case the gift was invisible; her fingers detected only the rough wrapping, and she pulled her hand back and let out a deep sigh.

Her breath tickled the four upraised flaps of the package, and in an instant they began flattening themselves, changing color, and interweaving their edges until a crisp white five by five square rested on her palm. Magic paper? What help could this possibly -

The appearance of lines in every color of the rainbow at the edges of the plain square halted her confused thoughts, and Jim leaned closer to observe as the lines flowed into the center of the page in unfamiliar patterns. Once the original white hue of the surface was hidden completely, thick black lines with labels floated up though the colors, and Miriam recognized a few words just as Jim tapped the map with a finger and broke his silence.

"Well, I'll be. That's a map of the town, and so accurate. Look, there's my store, with the hole in the roof and the crater in the parking lot from when I tried to chase a pack of wraiths away with an old grenade."

Sure enough, where he had tapped, the tiny outline of a building appeared, explosive and wraith damage visible as its lines sharpened. Other buildings coalesced from the sea of ink, most with mutilation similar to the store's roof, a few collapsed inward as though the victims of a renovation gone wrong. Miriam's long suppressed temper flared at the injustice of the destruction before her attention was drawn to four neon bright triangles that flashed onto the map, nearly blocking three buildings from view.

The two hot green icons said, "Safe Place," and they hovered over the store and a house outlined in white; text under the house told her it was her current location. The yellow one over an ornate Victorian style house across town read, "Destination." The final triangle, extra-brilliant safety-cone orange, warned, "Danger!" in the woods just behind the Victorian "destination." Such reassuring information, but what does it mean?

"That's amazing!" Jim rumbled the words with such force that the bed vibrated just enough to jiggle Miriam's hands, sending the magical map paper slipping to the floor beside the bed. They both stared as all the changes to the object reversed themselves, leaving a folded bundle of brown paper on the soft crocheted rug.

Suddenly Miriam was overwhelmed with exhaustion. Jim picked up the map and set it aside on the nightstand before leaning close to pat her on the shoulder.

"We can talk more in the morning. Rest now."

The light winked out, and Miriam allowed the darkness to sweep over her mind, and slept.

***************

Over breakfast, Jim insisted on going with her to the museum.

"You never know what might be lurking in those woods, what with that warning on your magic map and all."

His nonchalant reference to the unexpected appearance of yet another object from another realm, when he admitted that the changes to Fort Fillmore had only begun a week ago, had her confused, and not a little suspicious.

"Why does none of this phase you?" she blurted, immediately chagrined when a pink blush flooded his cheekbones above his rough facial hair at her harsh tone.

He met her gaze for a second before staring at the floor. In a mumble, he said, "My family goes back generations in this area, and my ma told stories of another world, somewhere full of familiar smells and flavors in unfamiliar packages, a place very much like this, yet very different, as well. She told of objects like you described to me, and the hero of one of her stories was a giant Siamese cat."

The mentioned animal purred and rubbed her head against his legs, nudging him off balance so he stumbled back a step before catching himself. He bent forward and rubbed the cat under the chin, saying no more.

Miriam refused to let him stop there. "I get the feeling that you're holding back on me. What else did she tell you in those stories?"

"That one day a crisis would rip that world apart, and with it, our own world would suffer. If allowed to follow its course to the natural conclusion, the conflict would destroy that fantastical place, and our own world with it."

Miriam's jaw dropped. "What! Did she mention if anything could stop this apocalypse?"

"She said a person with the ability to cross between worlds might be able to solve the puzzles and reverse the changes, but their ability to do so would depend on speed and trust, whatever that means." He shrugged. "Now, the sun will be coming up in a few minutes. Let's get in your truck."

tap tap

The familiar sound drew Miriam's gaze instinctively, and she found her strange zoo waiting at what must be the door to the garage, the lark perched on the fawn's head, silver beak poised by the wood slab.

Tap Tap

Jim's quizzical shot to Miriam's. "What does that mean?"

TAP TAP

"That means, 'Time to leave'," she said with a grin. She slid her feet into her comfortable running/travel shoes and walked to the door. The animals stepped aside and stared expectantly at Jim, whose bare feet lingered by the dining table. "Are you still coming with us?"

Strands of his shaggy mane shook free from their brethren when Jim violently vibrated his head side to side for a second before meeting Miriam's eyes. "I can't let you go alone, with the way things are. Why don't you all go get settled and leave me a space somewhere? I'll gather a few things and be out in a jiffy." Not waiting for an answer, he shambled away down the hall toward the bedrooms, the thump of a door closing vibrated through the air after a breath.

Time to go.