Jack the Overlander

Eighteen

Gregor stepped out onto the dark sidewalk and gave Hennessy's hand a firm shake.

"I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Hennessy," he said.

"We," corrected Luxa.

It was just after eight o' clock in the evening. They were standing next to Hennessy's camper, which was pulled over on Central Park West.

"Don't mention it," said Hennessy. "Just trying to make good with the powers-that-be in the world. Figure the least a man can do is help out strangers in need." He shifted his weight slightly.

"Yeah," Gregor said, nodding commendation. "Yeah. Alright. Hey, if you're ever stopping by Central Park —" he relayed directions to the entrance rock in quiet tones. Hennessy seemed pleased.

"May need to take one more trip down here, then, before I'm too old to drive this thing," he said.

Then, with a nod to Luxa, he was back in the truck and rolling down the avenue.

"Between you and he, I estimate that I have observed an excellent sample of Overlanders," Luxa said, nudging him playfully.

"You know, I think we deserved that," Gregor said.

They made their way slowly down the sidewalk and crossed the street heading away from Central Park. Nostalgia pierced him, as it always did when he visited the Overland. It had been, what, four years now? Five? He wasn't sure. Regalia was his home, but New York was the land of his childhood. There was something irreplaceable about the lights and the buildings, the comforting sounds of traffic, the signs flashing.

Luxa bore the receiving end of more than one befuddled stare on the way, but no one asked them anything. It was pleasant, strolling down the New York sidewalk, arm in arm with her.

He thought she was enjoying it, too. Though the city was incomparable to the rustic beauty of Regalia, there was plenty of novelty for Luxa. It was fun for them both when Gregor explained crosswalks, traffic lights, and the subway system. The whole thing was something of a dose of freedom. Gregor knew how much she dealt with as Queen, and sometimes it pained him deeply to see her responsibilities piling up around her. Over the years, he'd learned to take as many of the burdens as he could, and Ripred was always beside her, solid as ever; but still, she'd been the Queen of Regalia and effective leader of the Underland since she was twelve. That wasn't easy. Gregor sometimes thought his role as the Warrior compared favorably.

They arrived at his old apartment building. First, he led Luxa up the stairs — elevator was still broken, seventeen years later — and they approached his old door. He explained how people were renting out the living spaces.

"But my family doesn't even live here anymore... so we can't really go in. Here..."

He turned away from the door and took her back downstairs. His parents had moved to Virginia when he was seventeen, and Boots and Lizzie, at nineteen and twenty-five respectively, were both fully moved out. He would have considered visiting Mrs. Cormaci, but the old woman had died peacefully a few years back.

Luxa followed him across the lobby, down another stairwell and into the laundry room.

"There it is," he said, nudging the dryer aside and showing her the grate. "There's the entrance. Yep, I was just sitting down here, an eleven-year-old kid, minding my own business. Trying to survive the sweltering heat. Then Boots goes and crawls in there and — bam. Just like that."

Luxa put a hand on his back, smiling at him.

"What humble beginnings for the great Warrior," she said.

He took her hand from his back and laughed the memory away. They walked back up the stairs.

"I was also going to ask if you'd like that slice of pizza, after all these years," he said.

There was that familiar half-smile, dancing on her lips.

"Yes, I would like that. Very much."

They exited the building to find a steady, cool rain coming down. Luxa was startled at first but then fascinated, squinting up into the night sky to find the source of the water. Gregor realized she hadn't experienced any form of precipitation before whatsoever. Kind of like how some southerners never see snow. Except with rain.

"This is called rain," Gregor said. He had to speak loudly over the pattering against the pavement. "Overlanders hate it."

"Why?" asked Luxa, laughing. She reached out her arms and spun a couple times, still looking up into the clouds.

"Well... it's wet... and cold..." he said. Then he laughed, too. "Here, come on, it'll rain the whole way to the pizza place. That's at least four blocks, so you'll get the whole experience of getting soaked and freezing and everything. I promise."

They jogged down the sidewalk, Luxa still searching the gloom above her. Funny how centuries under the Earth could change your perspective on something like rain.

Gregor opened the door and they entered the shop, fairly wet and a little chilly, but after the Canadian lake, it was nothing. The guy behind the counter did a double take when he saw Luxa, but took Gregor's order without comment. They sat at a booth next to the window, and the food arrived quickly.

He'd imagined this moment countless times as a kid, and now that he was here, actually eating pizza with his wife, Queen Luxa of the Underland, it felt special and somehow hidden. A lot had changed since then. Too much to remember, honestly.

"Never thought I'd actually end up here, one day, with you," Gregor said. He smoothed his wet hair over.

"Nor I." She gazed at him searchingly, mouth tilted up. "The pizza is... wet. As the rain is."

Gregor laughed. "Yeah, it's pretty greasy. That's why people like it, see." He inhaled a mouthful. It'd been a long time since he'd had fast food.

"I see," said Luxa, smiling. She took another bite.

"Alright," said Gregor, a few minutes later. They'd finished the food quickly. "I guess that's it then."

"Yes," Luxa agreed. "Thank you, Gregor. I have quite enjoyed this evening."

He smiled.

They left the shop and walked, arm in arm again, to Central Park. The rain had stopped. The park was deserted as they came up to the rock. Gregor pushed it aside and Luxa descended first after taking one last look at the open sky above her. Gregor had just placed his foot on the first step when he paused, the memory hitting him like a punch.

"This is how we were," he said, blinking. "Last time we stood like this..." He looked down at her solemnly.

Her violet eyes met his, beautiful and fiery, locking now as they had then, seventeen years ago. Then she smiled, reaching out, offering him her pale palm.

"That was a long time ago," Gregor said. The memory dissolved.

He stepped down, taking her hand, and slid the rock back into place above him.