EMERGES FROM THE TREES onto the creek’s stony apron. On the island before him stands the ramshackle Forbidden Hut. He sloshes through the water, ignoring stepping-stones. He is not thinking, just doing. Something has awakened in his blood, voicelessly guiding him. He doesn’t even pause at the door. The shiny brass knob turns easily in his hand. The door creaks open, cobwebs shred. In the dying daylight he makes out a dirt floor, nail-pocked, mouldering walls. The only object seems to be a rectangular metal cabinet as tall as himself. It is framed in tiny red lights that twinkle. It is otherwise gray and faceless except for two small openings: one round, the other a slit. Except for the twinkling cabinet, the place is dreary and unremarkable, not at all what he has always imagined. It has the faintly rotting smell of muck.
He knows exactly what this place is. It is the station.
And now he begins to hear a new sound. At first he assumed it was the rush of creekwater. But no—it is something else. It is like many things. It is like wind in the trees. It is like the panting of a thousand puppies. It is like the hum of things unknown. But it is none of these. It is names. Names and names and names, swarming through the gloom, bouncing off the walls, winged whisperings by the millions, an eternity of names:
Lana Percy Amy Hildegarde Jillian Peter Herman Angel Janice Reynaldo Lucy Robert Choi Wanda John Esther Toya Bernard Ivan Pierre Marguerite Fantasia Boris Maude Solomon Joshua Odette Ethel Ryan Brod Virginia James Natalie Mia Chloe Zack Russell Summer Taylor Kevin Xavier Timothy Thomas Mary Sasha Ben Gwen Harold Ormorod Bill Leslie Heather Giselle Will Anthony Ildiko Marina Larry Claire Leah Donald Wilson Sven Sarah Mitchell Noreen Yvonne Brooke David Yasmir Eileen George Jennifer Sean Joel Edwin Isabel Barbara Jeffrey Suki Sam Molly Helen Roger Courtney Allie Katherine Walter Ingrid Keith Patty Lulu Salome Pedro Okalani Kofi Danny Konstantin Bob Amanda Nina Tao Michelle Cosmo Katie Emily Ahmed Janet Calliope Kenny Lena Bruce Ashton Ashley Emma Mark Ava Orson Audrey Bart Rachel Harriet Jacob Bobek Charlie Hattie Michael Malcolm Bjorn Wesley Curtis Penelope Brittany Natasha Morgan Aung Emmanuel Christopher Lonnie Paul Olga Angela Joey Lorna Louis …
He wonders which of them was The Kid.
He takes the walnut half shell from his pocket. He’s tempted to listen to it once more, for old times’ sake, but he knows there is no longer anything to hear. The Story has been told. He deposits the shell in the round hole, and out of the slit with a cheerful ching! pops a ticket. It does not say where he is going. It says simply:
ONE WAY
He does not breathe air inside the station—he breathes names. They pass through him as if he is nothing. They race along his vessels, leap pumping from his heart. He stands at the door. He clears his throat, for he wants to say it right. He stands tall, for everything he has ever been, everything he is, and he joins them, boldly, proudly, better than he has ever said it, for it must last now and forever:
“Jack!”
He steps outside, closes the door.
It is dark.
He hears the whistle. It is getting louder.
He crosses the creek, makes his way through the trees to the tracks. They shine now, silver ribbons in the moonlight—and suddenly he has a thought. Something he wants to do. But the train is coming, faster now and faster. The train that never was now suddenly is—is—and he knows it will not wait for long.
He bolts across the tracks and scrambles up the impossible bluffside and races to the blackberry bramble. The junker bike is still there. He mounts it, races across the moonlit shadows to Gorilla Hill, plunges up it with every Jack he’s ever been. The pedals become his legs, the wheels his lungs. He doesn’t stop till he becomes the first ever to pedal-mount the peak. At night! He kickstands the nag, smacks it on the rump, whispers sternly in its ear. The moon is directly above him, the stars, the constellations twinkle across the sky, so many, one for every kid on Hokey Pokey and more. He has never seen such wondrous things.
Below him Hokey Pokey sleeps.
Campfires! he thinks. Then realizes he’s looking down on a night-world of sleep monsters. From here, they might be the glowing embers of fallen stars.
Down there Dusty sleeps under the great pointing arm of The Kid. LaJo wherever. Somewhere Jubilee dreams beside her little brother. Kiki. Lopez. Harold the not-so-mighty Destroyer of Worlds. In the other direction a few stragglers stagger toward the trees, kids who can’t sleep unless they cross the tracks, even the creek. Wanda is down there somewhere, Wanda and her dopey doughball of a monster. Beyond the Mountains the thunder seems to be cracking, breaking into … what? … babble? … voices? …
He stands on the bike seat. It wobbles but holds. He wishes he had thought to bring a stick, but maybe that’s OK. He’s about to find out if it’s as close as he’s always thought. The bike is no Scramjet; it’s too unsteady. One good jump will have to do it. He crouches. He gathers himself. He pushes off, up to the sky, reaches, reaches for the moon, swats and—yes!—brushes it with his fingertips, catches just enough of it to set it trembling in the sky as the nag goes crashing. He falls to the ground. Flat on his back he sees the moon teeter above him. It sways. It circles like a bug going down a drain. It lurches drunkenly, and suddenly, with an audible floop! the moon pops from the sky and falls to the ground beside him. It bounces. He stops it from rolling down the hill. He sits up. He holds it in his lap. It’s just as he has long suspected. It’s about the size and color and feel of a soccer ball.
The train whistle is now a scream, a scream smothered by the monstrous chuff of the oncoming locomotive. A shaft of engine light skates off the track bend. Time! He leaps to his feet. He holds the moon in both hands. He punts it as high as he can. It bounces off constellations like a pinball and finally comes to rest where it had started, a bike-seat leap above his head.
Jack cups his hands to his mouth and sends one final Tarzan yell to his sleeping Amigos. The train is roaring. The light shaft is rocking up the tracks. He grabs the nag, flies down the hill.