Dire Woods

A bright shaft of light hit John Joseph Alabaster right in the face. He pulled the covers over his head, rolled over onto his stomach and listened. No noise, a potentially good sign. He pulled back the covers and peered around Alexander’s room. No Alexander. A very good sign.

“Get up!” Alexander yelled from the hallway.

“I am getting up,“ John Joseph answered. “Anyways, what’s the rush? I’m supposed to be sick, remember?”

Alexander burst into the room.

“Mr. Kilamo, the headmaster, is here. He‘s waiting for you downstairs.” Alexander rushed to his side and gave him a broad smile. “You must be in really big trouble.”

John Joseph felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. What had he done now? It was the weekend for cripes sake!

He scrambled into his clothes, stuffed his gear into his knapsack and headed towards the foyer. Alexander bounced around him like an excited puppy. John Joseph was sure he could hear him grinning.

The headmaster and the Blunts were standing by the door. They looked extremely uncomfortable. Alexander rushed into their midst and started talking.

“Is he in trouble, Wizard Kilamo?” Alexander blurted. “Probably big trouble, right? Got to get him back to school fast to face the music? Potentially expel him?”

Wizard Kilamo looked confused. “John Joseph’s not in trouble, Alexander.”

Alexander’s grin faded as his father yanked him back from the door and his mother started blathering.

“Such a kind boy, our Alexander, always worried about everyone else, isn’t he dear?” She twittered.

Mr. Blunt looked like he was developing a migraine.

“Well, no time for long goodbyes,” said Wizard Kilamo. “Enjoy your weekend and see you on Monday, Alexander.”

John Joseph was shuffled out the door before he could say a word. He did think Mr. Blunt looked sorry to see him go.

The headmaster started talking as soon as the door shut.

“Sorry for interrupting your weekend, John Joseph,” Mr. Kilamo apologized as they made their way down the stone stairs. “But I’m afraid we’ve got a bit of a problem.”

John Joseph trailed after his headmaster, clutching his knapsack to his chest, madly running through a list of potential problems in his head. Surprisingly enough, he couldn’t come up with a thing. Other than the sleepover, it had been a fairly quiet week.

Mr. Kilamo stopped at a gleaming, inky black automobile. He snapped his fingers and the doors slid open silently.

“I hate this ridiculous thing,” he muttered, “but the rest of the staff insisted.”

John Joseph stared at the car like it was a two-headed dragon. What the heck was Mr. Kilamo doing driving an automobile? According to his grandfather, they cost more than a small country! He stepped gingerly into the plush interior and gave an involuntary gasp. Dials, knobs, flashers and mirrors covered the dashboard. Handles and pulleys, hung from the transparent ceiling. The carpet was so thick John Joseph couldn’t see his shoes.

“Disgusting, isn’t it?” Mr. Kilamo stated. “Totally over the top.” He reached toward a panel of blinking lights and warily tapped a flashing green button. A deep-throated hhhrrrmmmmm filled the air.

“Nothing but show,” he muttered, as he steered the sleek vehicle onto the brick lined road. “Hard to believe they wasted the talents of twelve wizards for over two years just to build this stupid contraption.”

John Joseph glanced over at his headmaster. Mr. Kilamo took his glance as an indicator of interest. “ Twelve, level-one wizards,” he ranted, “working complex and dangerous spells to activate them. It‘s all those anti-pollution devices. This hunk of junk just isn’t worth the bother.“

“Yes, sir,” John Joseph agreed, although he really didn’t. Driving something with this many buttons and levers looked like it might be a lot of fun. He dragged his eyes from the knobs and focused on the problem at hand. What the heck was going on that the headmaster of his school would come pick him up from a sleepover?

“Could you tell me what this is about Mr. Kilamo?” John Joseph asked.

“Not now, John Joseph. Not now,” his headmaster shouted, gabbing a pulley with one hand and jabbing at a different green flashing button on the dash with the other, leaving the vehicle to steer itself. “This stupid thing is highly complicated to run and I need my wits about me!”

“Sorry sir,” John Joseph muttered as he scanned his side of the car for exit routes in case things went badly.

It took over 45 agonizing minutes to get back to the school, Wizard Kilamo yanked cords, slammed levers and pushed buttons the entire way. It hardly seemed worth the effort.

Finally, they passed through the gates to St. Frances Academy. The headmaster stopped the car with a lurch in front of the administration building. The fact that he’d driven across the soccer field to get there didn’t seem to bother him. They trudged up the stairs and made their way to the headmasters’ office. John Joseph knew the way well. He had been there quite frequently. Even when you didn’t start it, when there’s trouble, you still end up in the office.

Mr. Kilamo sat down at his large oak desk. John Joseph took his usual chair. Mr. Kilamo pushed his wire-framed glasses up on his broad nose and cleared his throat.

“Something very odd has happened,” he stated.

John Joseph waited.

“Well, there’s just no nice way to go about this,” Kilamo continued, tapping his long fingers on the desktop and avoiding John Joseph‘s eyes. “It’s your parents, John Joseph. They seem to have disappeared.”