Cindy D. Baker
land of the giants
“Birds in a Gilded Cage”
The rising sun gleamed off the orange metallic spaceship above the heads of Betty and Valerie, who stood at the ship’s hatch, passively observing their three co-strandees; Betty with hand on hip, Val her arms crossed. Steve, Mark, and Dan were preparing to depart on another scavenger hunt, and the women were awaiting the last minute instructions they knew would be forthcoming.
“Good to go?” Steve asked, watching Dan as he worked the knot on their improvised grappling hook. The giant safety pin and thread, although crude, had saved their lives many times.
“Yup,” Dan quipped, climbing to his feet with a big smile on his face. For once, he couldn’t wait to get going. Of late, the tight living space and lack of privacy had begun to gnaw on even his infinite patience.
“I’m ready, too,” Mark chimed in. He, most of all, was looking forward to the limited seclusion and the demanding exercise the excursions offered. A sprained back had kept him grounded to the ship for close to two weeks, and although he had done his best to keep his infamous short-temper under control, his pent up energies had, nevertheless, morphed into irrepressible grouchiness.
Betty, seeing Steve approach, thoughtfully looked down at the small radio in her hand. The handsets, as had been her duty, were charged and ready to go.
Steve looked sternly between the two women. “Barry and Fitzhugh are at the outpost so stay close to the radio,” he commanded, throwing the rope over his shoulder and taking the transceiver from Betty in one smooth movement. “The brook we’re going to isn’t far from here, and we’re only scouting for what debris might have been washed into it from the rainstorm the other night; so, as of right now, I’m expecting to be back sometime around nightfall.”
“Aye, aye, Skipper,” Valerie said with a happy, crooked grin.
Steve cocked an eyebrow. When Val was this chirpy, it meant she was restless, and that usually lead to trouble. “Stay in camp,” he said firmly, looking her dead in the eye.
Val’s grin vanished. “Yes, Captain,” she replied with a pout.
With a suspicious frown, Steve turned and joined Mark and Dan at the tree line. With brief waves, they called their good-byes, then started down the trail.
“Be careful,” Val shouted to them as one by one they disappeared into the forest.
“And Mark, don’t over do it!” Betty added. And she meant it. She had been his nurse for most of the time and, therefore, the major recipient of his foul mood. An experience she didn’t want to repeat anytime soon.
When the men were no longer be seen through the green and brown of the undergrowth, Valerie let out a long, bored sigh, then looked over the crude, meager camp with a disappointed frown. A mischievous twinkle popped into her bright, blue eyes.
“I don’t know about you, but I need a change of clothes. Let’s go play dress-up!”
“Dress-up?” Betty asked with a raised eyebrow as Val darted towards the cabin. “Dress into what?” Curious, and with nothing better to do, Betty followed her.
Within half hour, all of Val’s luggage and clothes were strewn about the passenger cabin like a washing machine that had thrown up.
The vivacious redhead stood in the center of the turmoil before a full-length, portable mirror, admiring the powder blue snow-ski outfit she held against herself. “Too bad this isn’t the Swiss Alps. This would have knocked them dead,” she grinned.
Betty peered up at her from the floor with a look of sympathy and annoyance. At the moment, she was on her knees amidst the many suitcases, refolding into neat bundles the disarrayed evening gowns rummaged through by her friend. Her eyes turned to the reflecting glass.
“I sometimes wonder that . . . if that mirror had been made of real silver, could Mark have charged the solar batteries and gotten us home?”
“Hey!” Val spun on her heels, her face glowing with their adventure. “I don’t want to hear about repairs and if what’s. I want to talk about frilly clothes and expensive jewelry. Ah, Francoise,” she sighed, hugging the outfit tight, “where are you skiing tonight?”
An amused grin came to Betty’s face as she pulled yet another tousled dress from the carrier. Never having seen so many beautiful and expensive gowns before, the former stewardess gave into temptation and held one up. Made of olive green silk, it had a v-neckline, spaghetti straps, and a floor length skirt with a moderate train.
Betty’s eyes got large as saucers. “Val, why is it some of your dresses look like they’ve never even been worn before?”
“That’s
because they haven’t,” she said proudly. “Versace’s
best, hot off the designers’ platform in
Lifting another gown, Betty’s face lit up. This dress was full length, also with a modest train, strapless with a square bodice, and covered in white sequins. “Oh, Val!”
“Try it on,” Valerie impishly urged.
“Oh, I couldn’t. It must have cost a small fortune.”
“Actually, yes, but,” Val shrugged, “what the heck! You only live once.”
“But if anything happened to it, I’d never forgive myself,” Betty replied, climbing to her feet, regardless, and moving to take Valerie’s place before the mirror. She held the dress in front of her, her face full of longing.
“Bet you’d look beautiful in it,” Val whispered in her ear. “And it’s certainly your color. Go ahead, be daring!”
“But Steve and the others. . . .”
Val
gave an impatient wave of her hand. “The men folk won’t be back for
hours. Go on, have some fun!” she pressed. “You deserve it after
everything we’ve been through. Especially in taking care of
Betty, undecided, looked at the stunning white dress shimmering in her hand, then smiled broadly. “Better shut the door first,” she said with a shy grin as she started to undo the zipper.
Behind her, Valerie jogged to the instrument panel and hit the button that extracted the compartment door.
Moments later, Betty again stood in front of the mirror, her face full of wonder and joy at how beautiful the gown looked on her, and at how feminine it made her feel.
“Do I know how to pick a dress or what?” Valerie nodded. “But, hey, if we’re gonna do it, let’s do it right.” Digging into a small, hard suitcase, she pulled out tan stockings, long white gloves, sling-back white heels, and a large, matching fan.
Within minutes, the image was complete. Betty, beside herself with unbridled delight, twirled around—and promptly grabbed onto the seat back to save herself from toppling over.
“I’d forgotten shoes this high take a while to get used to,” she muttered, peering down at the three-inch, stiletto heels. Straightening up, she peered at Valerie. “How do I look?” she asked, her face bright. This time she turned slowly.
Val scrutinized her from top to floor. “I have to admit,” she nodded, “it looks better on you than it did on me. You have the right figure for it.”
Picking up the fan, Betty snapped it open, stretching a well-toned leg out before the mirror. “Oh, Val,” she uttered, changing position to peek playfully over the fan. “I feel like I should be singing, Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend.”
“On this planet, it’s more like Two Little Girls from Little Rock,” the redhead guffawed. “But hey, if you feel like singing, do it!” she smiled. “A little song and gaiety would be nice right now.”
A lopsided grin came to Betty’s face. She took a few steps, whirled, then suddenly stopped in a theatrical pose. “A kiss on the hand may be quite continental,” she sang. From there, her voice grew stronger as her confidence and enthusiasm increased, her hand- and leg-movements also becoming more elaborate.
Valerie slid into a nearby seat from where she showed her enjoyment with loud claps, cheers, and whistles of encouragement.
Meanwhile, outside. . . the lost-in-their-own-thoughts trio of Steve, Dan, and Mark stepped from the forest into their home camp. The closer they became to Spindrift, the more their footsteps unconsciously slowed in unison as each registered the musical sounds that wafted towards them.
“I hear singing,” stated Mark, coming to a halt and looking baffled at the others.
“So do I,” Steve nodded.
“It’s a song from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,” replied Dan, cocking his head to hear better as an appreciative smile came to his face.
“Yeah,” Steve said, “the movie with Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell, but where’s the song coming from?” He scanned the area for a clue.
“No giant would know that song.” Dan looked at Steve, crinkling his forehead. “Would they?”
Steve casually shrugged and was about to reply when Mark pointed to Spindrift. “The view ports are closed.”
“The voice sounds familiar, too,” said Dan.
The three men looked at each other then grinned.
Silently they entered the ship, pausing in the corridor where they listened to Betty belt out the show tune filtering through the closed cabin door.
Steve peered at the others, brought a finger to his lips, and pushed the small button on the control panel. In front of them, the door slid open without a sound. With utmost stealth, they made their way into the room, hugging the back wall where they remained undetected. The men, although amused at their own duplicity, were soon caught up in Betty’s zealous performance.
“. . . find a gentleman who’s shy or bold or short. . . ” Betty happily went on.
From the corridor, Chipper quietly slipped into the room, then wove his way round the men’s legs as if he were a part of the conspiracy. Spotting Betty, the dog, his tail wagging a mile a minute, trotted over to the entertainer.
Betty, seeing the terrier, kept beat as she picked him up and ruffled his head fur, “. . . or tall or young or old, as long as the guy’s a millionaire!” Finishing, Betty, in big-finale-like fashion, kicked up her leg then propped it on a chair, where the dress fell aside revealing her shapely limb—just as it dawned on Valerie, “Chipper, how did you get in here?”
The same realization struck the women simultaneously and their heads whipped around in unison; their mouths dropping at the sight of their unintended audience at the front of the cabin.
“More! More!” Dan clapped, adding a wolf whistle as they meandered further into the room.
Even Mark, an uncharacteristic smile on his face, eagerly applauded.
Betty snatched her exposed leg off the chair and released Chipper to the floor. “Excuse me while I find a hole to crawl into,” she muttered, turning three shades of red.
“You, sirs, should be horsewhipped!” Valerie glared, getting to her feet. “What are you doing back so soon? You were supposed to be gone all day.”
Dan’s face fell in disappointment. “For once the park people were efficient. The debris was cleaned up by the time we got there.”
“Probably afraid some kids might play in it and get hurt,” volunteered Mark. He looked at Betty, his mouth tugging at a restrained grin. “I think you should dress up more often. Adds class to the place.”
“Here, here,” cheered Dan as Betty turned a new shade of rose. “And where, may I ask, might you be going to need such eloquent attire?”
“Actually, it’s Val’s,” she replied, running a hand through her tousled hair.
“Not very practical,” Steve commented dryly from his observation perch on the arm of one of the chairs.
Val’s eyes narrowed. She walked over to Steve, with arms crossed arms. “With that kind of charm, Captain Burton, I can see why you’re still a bachelor.”
“Well, Miss Hamilton,” Dan broke in, “let me be the first to tell you how beautiful you look.” With an exaggerated flair, he bowed, and took her hand, giving it a gentle kiss.
“Thank you, Sir Erickson,” Betty replied, dropping into a deep curtsy.
“Too
bad we’re not in
“All kinds, let me tell you,” Dan said, on the more serious side. “I have three sisters an—”
“Giants!” The alarm shouted from outside. Footsteps thundered into the corridor before anyone could move. It was Barry. “A giant’s coming!” he panted, pausing at the hatchjamb to catch his breath.
Steve jumped to his feet, taking the boy by the shoulders. “How many?” he asked in a calm, even voice.
Barry took a big gulp of air then following Steve’s lead, squared his shoulders and replied calmly. “Just one, but he’s coming right for us.”
Steve turned to the others. “All right, everyone, head for the shelter!”
The group, having been through this danger many times before, didn’t hesitate at the Captain’s command. Mark, being the next one closest to the door, automatically took lead, jogging out of Spindrift just as Fitzhugh, huffing and puffing, barreled into camp.
“Giants!” he bellowed, his face purple from exertion.
“We
know!”
“Hurry,” Mark urged, heading into the woods.
“But where. . . ?” Fitzhugh stammered.
Barry grabbed the flustered man by the hand. “This way, Mr. Fitzhugh!” and struggled to pull him after the others. Dan appeared on the opposite side and took hold of Fitzhugh’s other arm. “Come on, Alex, you can make it.”
“Uhhh,” the older man groaned. Too winded to argue, he let them drag him away.
Inside the ship, Steve stared with growing irritation at Betty, who was frantically scouring the compartment. “Betty!” he growled, “we have to—”
“My
clothes! I can’t find my— ” Spotting the attire on a far
chair, she made a dash towards it but
“No time!” he yelled.
Steve
pulled her into the hallway and released her, but Betty spun, dodging back
inside. Her hand was an inch away from her boots when
“Come on!” he snapped, dragging her out once more.
At the main hatchway, Steve flew over the outside steps, gave a quick glance to confirm Betty was still behind him and continued, at a dead run, to the shelter.
Betty looked down and grimaced. The improvised steps were nothing more than two descending rocks pushed together and were narrow, uneven, and hard to see, especially when one had their arms full—or wore a full-length dress with three-inch heels.
Hoisting the hem, Betty jumped. Landing on her toes, she held her balance, then sprinted as best she could after her companions.
Steve was only a few yards ahead of her when she witnessed him catapult over a giant twig that lay across the pathway.
However, this “twig” was the circumference of a full-grown Oak tree and nearly its length. The strandees had tried to remove it several times, but the heavy object was jammed firmly between several giant shrubs. Although not a major problem, it was an inconvenient one.
“Oh, hell,” Betty muttered, staring at the obstruction that lay at waist level. She knew there was room to go under, but the spindly sprigs would tear at her and the dress. She could go over. Those sprigs had been removed, but the height of the log, its rough bark, and the confining design of the skirt would make maneuvering difficult.
Betty turned, and was about to hunt for an alternate route when she heard the loud footsteps in front of her, and knew she had no choice. Heaving her, bottom first, onto the barrier, she swung her legs up and over, then slid off the other side. Landing on her feet, Betty took off, but was jolted to a stop. The skirt was caught on something!
“Damn!” Betty’s heart pounded as she glanced at the noise coming towards her. She dropped onto the thick twig via her stomach where her hand speedily searched over, under and around for the imprisoned material.
The newly built shelter was nothing more than a hollow dugout under an overhang at the bottom of a huge boulder. Close to camp, it had been created for emergencies like this, which the group had already experienced far too many times for comfort.
Dan, Mark, and Val were huddled just inside its opening, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the other two when Valerie gasped, putting a hard grip on Mark’s wrist. But he hadn’t noticed. Like his two companions, his eyes were locked on the giant that now roamed the area—a funny little man in a tan bowler hat, brown plaid suit, and unlit cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth.
Chipper whined from his owner’s lap where he was held fast against his struggle to pull free.
“Quiet, Chipper,” Barry scolded, wrapping his arms tighter around the dog. He and Fitzhugh were pressed at the back of the tiny cave.
“Uhhh,” Fitz groaned, his hand on his chest, “of all the flights from the airport, why did I have to get on this one?”
The giant lowered the stogie then took in a long, deep breath. “Ahhh,” he cooed, gazing up at the trees. “Nothing like a good, invigoratin’ walk to clear the brain matter.”
Mark’s hand found Valerie’s as he gave it a tight squeeze. “He’s right over the ship!”
“Good thing we put fresh leaves on it yesterday,” she whispered back. “Maybe he won’t notice it.”
“Maybe
we can—” Dan started, but the rest of it was lost when
Bent over, Steve’s head shot up. “She was right behind me!”
Betty patted down the tree limb for the umpteenth time but the snag wasn’t within her reach.
“Damn it!” Desperate, she swung herself back over to the other side. Hearing the giant footsteps, she glanced up. She could now see him from the waist up, just off to her left. Betty paled—if she could see him, he could see her.
Feverishly, Betty tracked the elusive anchor to a giant sprig on the underside of the obstacle. Using both hands, she tugged with all her strength but the material was impaled on a small branch.
“Ah. . . ” the giant sighed, “time to get back to work.” He took the cigar, dropped it to the ground, and begun mashing it out when a flash caught his eye. Curious, he watched with growing interest the odd whiteness that sparkled a few feet ahead of him in the brush.
“It can’t be a bird.” His forehead crinkled. “A flower, maybe. . . ?” He bobbed his head in indecision, then went forward to investigate.
Betty’s throat tightened with fear as she heard the giant coming towards her. Unable to run, her blood pounding in her ears, she ducked down as low as possible, still trying to tear the hem free.
But the shimmering, sequined material only served as a beacon for the giant.
“I don’t believe my eyes!” The funny little man sprouted a lopsided grin as he stared down at the white form. Leaning over, he braced his hands on his knees, and peered closer at Betty with a thoughtful tilt of his head.
Steve and Dan raced out of the shelter and over the trail, only to arrive in time to witness the giant reach for their former stewardess.
The giant began to rise with Betty, who was now in his hand, when he too felt the tug of the snag. “So that’s why you didn’t run away.” His other hand grasping the large twig, he raised them concurrently. Once upright, the giant, with a quick flick of his wrist, had the hem untangled and tossed away the stick.
“Look out!” Steve hissed. Both men ducked, their arms over their heads. The twig whizzed over them, missing them by mere inches, and landed in a shrub beside them.
Shaken, the two men peered at it, then at each other with looks of “unbelievable” and “that-was-close.”
The giant had opened his palm and was closely studying the tiny woman when his eyes shot wide open. “I don’t believe it! Ya . . . ya look exactly like Nightingale.” With a broad smile, he tucked Betty into the safety of his coats inside breast pocket and with a loud, joyous whistle, hurried away.
Behind him, Steve and Dan charged full out and were able to keep the giant in view most of the time, despite the obstacles and dangers of the forest. But after a long stretch, tired and winded, they began to lose ground.
“That way!” Dan yelled, having spotted the tan bowler once again.
They reached the border of the park’s sidewalk and watched with destroyed hope as the giant sped away in a little green sports car.
Dan spun, throwing a punch at a dangling leaf. “I didn’t even get a chance to see his license plate!”
Steve stood like a statue, staring at the disappearing vehicle as if by doing so he would learn its destination by telepathy. “It didn’t have one,” he said stoically. “It was a new car.” He looked at Erickson, the devastation as clear on Dan’s face as on his own.
Exhausted and defeated, their shoulder’s slumping, the two men returned home.
Mark squatted beside the smoldering cigar, staring at its metal band as if hypnotized. He knew they had a use for the metal, but at that moment, with his concern elsewhere, he couldn’t recall specifically for what.
Behind him, Valerie paced, alleviating her anxiousness by gnawing on a fingernail.
Barry, sitting on the small log only a few feet from them both, played fetch with Chipper while Fitzhugh, next to him, watched soberly on.
Hearing sounds of brushing amidst the ground cover, their heads turned in that direction.
“Chipper, come,” Barry ordered in a bare whisper. He took the dog in his arms and stood as Fitzhugh did the same, gripping the boy’s shoulders out of fear and nervous habit.
But the tension and fear drained away when they saw it was Dan and Steve.
Val glanced at Mark and him at her, the tension back in their eyes—Betty wasn’t with them.
Without a word, Spindrift’s two downtrodden pilots took a seat on the log that Barry and Fitzhugh had just vacated. By the look on the men’s faces, everyone knew what had happened.
“She’s been caught,” Mark stated dryly.
Steve dropped his head into his hands. “Yeah.”
“I’ll
get the equipment.” Mark turned to do the errand, but when no
confirmation came from
Dan
squared his shoulders. “The giant took off in a car. It didn’t have
a license plate.”
Valerie
gasped, her face paling. “No license plate!” Her knees weakening,
she reached out for Mark.
Fitzhugh and Barry shared the same stunned expression; Fitzhugh sank to the nearest rock, as the boy’s arms tightened around his dog.
“B-but,” Barry stuttered, “without the license plate. . . ”
“. . . you can’t find her,” finished Valerie.
“We can’t just sit here!” Mark bellowed, his face red with anger.
Steve sprang to his feet. “If anyone has any suggestions,” he snapped, his eyes blazing, “I’d love to hear ‘em!” He spun away, the air thick with stunned, emotional silence.
“But you must have some idea, Captain Burton,” Fitzhugh pushed hopefully. “There must be something you can do.”
Steve whirled. “Well, this time I don’t! Without a registration number there’s no way we can trace the car. We don’t even have this guy’s name to look it up in the telephone book!”
“Then she’s gone,” Valerie’s words choked in her throat as wetness formed in her eyes. “Unless we find out where she is, she’s really gone. . . .” She dropped onto the ship’s steps as the men watched on; their own misery mirrored in her distraught face.
Mark looked at the others, then after a moment of uncertainty, went over. As he sat down, Valerie stifled a sob. Putting his arm around her, Mark pulled her close, giving her his shoulder to cry into, which she did so readily.
Fitzhugh stood, resting a hand on Barry’s shoulder. “Come, lad,” he said quietly. “We’d better go retrieve those berries we found.” With an arm around the boy, he led him out of camp.
Betty held on as best she could to. Sitting awkwardly on the floor of the giant’s pocket, she held her arms out to minimize being thrown in the hard jostling. She was fearful, but that always came with being caught, and there was little she could do except find ways of escaping; either in route or once she arrived, which she’d been contemplating ever since she’d been put there, but no opportunities as yet had presented itself.
For Betty, it wasn’t the final destination that bothered her so much as was getting there. The giants’ wobbly standings, their uneven gait, and jerky movements always made her nauseous.
Overall,
the journey so far had been an easy one. She was sure the giant had gone out of
his way to make it so. He seemed kind and courteous, and had been very cautious
in his handling of her. But, Betty thought wearily. She ran a
hand over the gown’s delicate material, and let out a sad sigh. Why is it, every time we have a little fun,
it always ends up like this?
After several minutes, Betty felt the car turn a corner. After which it immediately began to slow. Dread crept into her chest.
The green sports car took the corner with ease, gliding to a stop before the valet parking sign that stood sentry in front of a three-story stone building. Modest businesses were to the building’s left, while its own large parking lot was adjacent to its right side. Bordering the parking area was a meticulously kept rock garden where a foot-tall nymph sprouted water into a marble pool.
Made
of sandstone, the building’s front was molded into columns, interrupted
by a wide, double glass-door entry, trimmed in brass. Atop the door, also
brass-lined, was a story-high box sign. The marquee advertised its presence
with red neon tubing that read,
Millo threw open the door, and with his hand cupped protectively over Betty in the pocket, slid carefully out of the car. On the curb, he pulled a cigar from the other breast pocket, and inserted it into his mouth next to a smug, lopsided grin.
“Afternoon, Mr. Millo,” Erwin the doorman greeted from his post at the entrance. Wearing the uniform of gray coach coat, yellow and black epaulets, matching hat and buttons, the tall doorman drew the door open, tipping of his hat as his guest passed under the canopied walkway.
“Afternoon, Erwin,” Millo said, returning the gesture with his bowler as he vanished into the building.
Sauntering through the foyer, Millo passed under an open, arched doorway into a large elegant room decorated in rich shades of red and gold. But he barely paid attention to the expensive decor and the gold-lined china table settings as he veered to the far left of the room. Bypassing the highly polished, oak stage, he continued to the door next to it where he entered the corridor and there paused to listen the distinct sounds of a piano and the sultry song of a female singer accompanist wafting through the walls. A smug, pleased look came to his face.
Walking a few feet more, Millo turned left into another room. This one, only a fraction of the size of the one he had just left, had musical instruments stored all along its scuffed beige walls. In the middle of the Rehearsal Hall stood the piano where the beautiful music had resounded, accredited to an older, gray-haired man at the keys.
Next to the piano man stood Nightingale. She was blonde, slender, and except for her curly, shoulder-length hair, the spitting image of Betty Hamilton. Her voice was low and sweet as she glanced at the sheet music in her hand, then at the Millo in the doorway.
Taking the cigar from his mouth, Millo mimed a silent clap to his client, then signaled he would meet her upstairs in her dressing room. Gale, her forehead folded in concentration and not skipping a note, nodded.
The Guest Accommodations was large enough to * accommodate comfortably any star the nightclub booked, and expertly decorated to match the rest of the facility. Included was a kitchenette at the far, street-side part of the room, complete with a sink and a full-sized refrigerator. Opposite the kitchen were a mahogany coffee table and a chintz couch with matching armchair. Between the two areas were a modest dining room table and four chairs.
Near the door stood an ornate make-up table and mirror. A doorway beside the dressing table on the right lead to a walk-in wardrobe closet and the bathroom. The bath, with a luxurious sunken tub, opened up into another walk-in closet, which led to the bedroom containing a king-size bed.
Entering the private quarters, Millo closed the door firmly behind him, then gave the rooms a quick, cursory check. To his satisfaction, no one else was there. Shifting his unlit cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, he began a new search of the rooms, this one intensifying until he came upon an empty shoebox beside the trash can near the make-up table.
“Perfect,” he grinned ear-to-ear. Setting it on the dining table, he carefully, gently transferred his captive into it. Bending down to Betty, he gave her a friendly smile. “What’s ya name, beautiful?”
“Betty Hamilton,” she frowned, crossing her arms. To her surprise, the giant giggled.
“
The door flew open, followed by a furious Gale. “Millo!” She stormed towards him. “You know I don’t like to be disturbed during rehearsal! This is a new routine I’m trying to—”
“This was important. I’ve got something that’ll knock ya off your feet!”
“It had better be,” she scowled, crossing her arms. “What is it?’
“This.” He pointed to the box.
Suspicious, the woman took a wary stepped towards it. Peering in, Gale’s eyes sprung wide as her mouth dropped to the floor. “A little people! I don’t believe it!”
“I still don’t, but this is it, honey! This is what’s gonna put us over the top!”
“Millo,” Gale rolled her eyes, “we’re at the top, we can’t go any higher.”
“Sure we can. And she’s what’s gonna do it for us.”
Gale shook her head in bafflement. “How?”
“Don’t ya get it? Ya ‘little’ sister! A duet! Ya’ll capture the section of audience we’ve never been able ta touch before.”
“What if she can’t sing?”
“We’ll fake it!”
“Except you’re forgetting one thing . . . it’s illegal to own little people.”
“Only without a license. But not ta worry,” he flashed her a confident grin, “my brother-in-law’s on the Supreme Counsel.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “This is it, baby!” he said excitedly. “The last hurtle. Nothing can stop us now.”
Gale’s face clouded over. “But—”
“I gotta go make some arrangements.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Take care of them pipes of yours.”
“But—” she stuttered as he bounced out of the room. Staring at the swinging door, Gale threw up her hands up exasperation. “But nothing has stopped us before!”
Suddenly her shoulders drooped and she frowned, looking like a soldier who knew she had lost the war. Strolling to the table, she looked wearily down at Betty. “My name’s Gale.” She shrugged her shoulders in befuddled compassion. “So what am I supposed to do with you . . . ?”
Mark studied a hand-drawn, rough schematic of Spindrift while behind him, Val, Fitzhugh, and Barry, with Chipper trotting after him, stacked firewood. Hearing a snap in the forest, Mark’s head whipped around. Hearing a second crackle, he sprinted to the others.
“Quiet!” he whispered, signaling them to duck down. “Something’s coming.” The tiny group obeyed instantly. All that moved was the breathing of their chests as they watched and waited to see who or what the noise belonged to. The answer came a moment later when Burton’s red uniform gleamed like a flashlight through the green and brown undergrowth.
Valerie sighed with relief. “It’s Steve and Dan.”
In unison, the five relaxed and climbed to their feet.
Fitzhugh, his face red with exertion, made a beeline to the water bucket, while his companions went to welcome the journeymen.
Steve and Dan, hoisting a piece of bread between them, stepped into the small clearing. Contrary to the delectable prize, both men looked grim.
It had been two weeks since Betty’s capture, and despite the group’s combined experience, as well as having investigated all avenues of pursuit, they had not found one clue to her whereabouts.
“Find anything?” Mark asked, trying to keep the hostility and frustration out of his tone. For him, Betty’s disappearance had brought “useless” to a new, infuriating level.
“No,” Steve muttered gruffly.
Mark glanced at Valerie, who had appeared by his side. The two echoed worried looks. Dan and Steve had known Betty longer than any of them, and her capture had hit them the hardest. The empty mission would only heighten the angst in the already tense camp.
“But we did find this,” announced Dan, trying to sound upbeat. The men dumped the bread onto the table under the lean-to, then stepped back to appreciate the treasure. Dan glanced at Steve with an expression that read, “at least the expedition wasn’t a total waste.”
The strandees gathered round, yet looked at it sadly.
“I’m not hungry,” Valerie stated with an unhappy frown.
“Neither am I,” said the gloomy Barry. Picking up Chipper, he went and sat down on the log.
Dan shoulders slumped. “I’m not either.”
Concerned, Steve looked from one to the other to the others. “Look, you all have to eat something!”
“Fine,” Mark snorted, “you can have my portion!”
Steve stared at the food. The bravado slide from his face. “I’m not hungry either.” He took a seat next to Barry, his dejected mood matching everyone else’s.
“There’s got to be a way to find her,” Dan insisted after a few minutes of heavy silence. “If only I could remember what the giant said.”
Mark
hitched his chin at him. “What do you mean?”
“The giant said she looked like something. A bird, a quail . . . ” Dan shook his head, pursing his lips as he tried to remember “. . . something, I don’t know. What good would it do us even if we knew what he was talking about? We have no way of following up on it.”
Steve gave a despondent shrug. “I didn’t even hear it.” He turned to Barry. “Nothing new in the newspapers or posted on handbills?”
The boy shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Nothing.” Valerie growled, picking up a stone and pitching it with all her strength.
“Even visiting Kobick’s office again proved fruitless,” mumbled Mark.
“But we’ll keep searching, won’t we, Captain?” Barry lowered Chipper to the ground. “No matter how long it takes.”
Steve stared at Barry, admiring his loyalty and persistence. Not wanting to let him down, Steve felt his own determination reinvigorated. He grinned. “Yes, Barry, we will. No matter how long it takes.”
“So how do ya like it?” Millo asked, bouncing on his heels in thrilled expectation. “I had it ordered special.”
Betty stared speechless at the huge object sitting before her on Gale’s dinner table. It was a new green and white, two-story, colonial dollhouse. The present took up nearly the entire tabletop.
“It even has a small porch on the back,” he told her, sounding like a kid in a candy shop.
Opening the front door, Betty went inside, her mind still not accepting what she was seeing. After so many months of sleeping in a hammock and bathing in the woods, the house—a normal-sized house, a house her size—was overwhelming. Looking over the sparkling-clean foyer and its frilly curtains, Betty felt her throat tighten. Within hours of her entrapment, Millo had purchased her an abundance of new clothes of which she’d already been very grateful for receiving. And now this.
Her
eyes wide, Betty, dressed casually in blue jeans and a white tank top,
meandered through the rooms, her footsteps falling silent over the minuscule
carpet. The house was painted in rich colors of
“This place is nicer than my last apartment,” she mumbled to herself as she took in the bare, contrasting walls. Walking to the fireplace, she gazed up at the painting hanging over it. Up close, the “painting” was nothing more than a color picture cut from a magazine. Melancholy swept over Betty as her eyes dropped to the empty mantel.
“Not much use,” she frowned, running a hand over the varnished, wooden mantelpiece, “if you don’t have pictures of friends and family to put on it.” With a deep sigh, she glanced outside. Millo, chomping on his usual unlit cigar, was no longer watching her, but was pacing before the dressing screen where Gale was currently changing.
“Hurry up, will ya,” her manager urged with a chuckle.
“Millo, if ever you learned to reign in your impatience . . . ” the singer lightly scolded as she slipped past the shield.
“I can’t help it. I’m just excited for ya.” He turned around, stopping dead in his tracks.
Nightingale twirled, glistening in a replication of Valerie’s white gown.
“Hey,” Millo beamed, taking the stubby weed from his mouth, “you look terrific!”
“It’s a beautiful gown, Millo, but do you really think—”
“Honey, this is what ya needed! A change in pace . . . a change in style, although class ya already had. Listen to your manager. If this doesn’t do it, nothing will.”
Crossing her arms, Gale looked at him fondly. “Oh, Millo, will you ever listen? We’re at the top, we don’t need to go any higher.” She took a step towards him. “I’m tired . . . I miss my family. . . ” Uncrossing her arms, she grabbed his lapels and jerked him to her. “ I want to go home!” she growled playfully.
“Right, sure,” he waved, unconcerned. “I’ll let ya two rehearse, but remember ta keep it quiet. I don’t want our little secret getting out too soon.”
“But . . . ” Gale protested. Her words went unheard as Millo disappeared out the door and pulled it shut. A second later came a hard rap. Gale knew he wouldn’t leave until she followed through on their prearranged procedure, so with an irritated grunt, the songstress stepped to the door and turned the lock.
From the other side came two more distinct taps. It was Millo’s confirmation that she had complied, as well as his way of saying “good bye.”
Gale gripped her hair with both hands. “I love you, Millo, so help me I love you, but one of these days I’m gonna kill ya.” Dropping her arms, she plopped down into the chintz armchair under the street-side window from where her troubled mind found an obscure defect on the wall to lock onto.
Betty, hearing the silence, strolled out of the house.
Gale looked over, her mouth a deep frown. “You ready?” she asked, her question devoid of all enthusiasm.
Betty gave a lame shrug of her shoulders. “I guess so.” When Gale made no attempt to stand, Betty sat down on the stoop, and leaned gloomily against the wooden structure.
Neither moved, both lost in their own jumbled worlds.
After several minutes, Gale gave a heavy sigh. “Well,” she grunted as she pushed on the chair, “time to . . .” and came to her feet just as a series of knocks reverberated on the door. Startled, Gale looked at Betty, and Betty, her face paling, looked back. Gale stabbed a finger at the Colonial mouthing, “Get inside.”
Betty shot to her feet as the singer went to the door.
There were more knocks, this time more insistent. Gale glanced over her shoulder at the small house. Satisfied Betty was safely hidden within, she threw open the door where her expression turned to one of pure shock.
“Salvan!” Gale gasped at the handsome man in the doorway. Her gloomy mood of a moment ago vanished into one of sheer joy.
“Hi, honey,” Salvan said, his warm, blue eyes sparkling as he gazed at her. He was taller than she by several inches, and had a square jaw, short-cropped, dark brown hair, and broad shoulders that complimented the black business suit he wore.
With a delighted squeal, Gale threw herself into the man’s arms, covering him with fiery kisses. One quick kiss on the mouth transformed into a deeper one and Gale melted in his embrace.
After a long moment, Salvan grasped her hands, pulling her from him. “Here, let me look at you,” he grinned.
Returning the smile, Gale stepped to arm’s length, allowing him full view.
“The dress is beautiful,” he said, drawing her back to him. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she returned breathlessly as he leaned in for another long kiss.
“I’ve missed you,” he finally said.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she purred.
“Are you coming home any time soon?” His tone had turned serious.
Gale pursed her lips, her eyes filled with regret. “I can’t. Millo has me booked all the way till next summer.”
Salvan forced a smile. “The price you pay for being a star. You realize you’ve missed the holidays four years in a row now?”
“Van, we both knew it was going to be rough. And you know how much I’ve wanted this, how hard I’ve worked to get this far.”
He nodded. “I do.” He played with a ringlet of her blonde hair. “I also realize I’m losing you.”
“No, you’re not,” she said with a nervous chuckle, followed by her best, reassuring smile while trailing a seductive finger over his chest.
Salvan took her chin in his hand, lifting her face to his. “Maybe you’re too locked into your career to see it.”
Nightingale stiffened. “I am not locked into my career!”
“Yes, you are.” A look of hope blossomed on Salvan’s face. “Honey. . .” he began, grabbing her tenderly by the forearms, “come home with me, right now, right this minute. You deserve a vacation. Why not take it now?”
“I can’t just walk out on Millo. . . ” she frowned. “He’s worked just as hard for this success as I have. I just . . . can’t.” Gale gazed at him, her face torn with disappointment, indecision, and longing.
Salvan cocked his head, the happiness on his face fading. “No,” he nodded. “That was one of the things I loved about you. You were loyal to a fault. But I guess if it was meant to be, it was meant to be.” He leaned forward, giving her another kiss, only this one was abrupt, his expression dissolving into sadness and regret. “Good-bye, Gale. I love you.” Reluctantly he let her go, then turned towards the hallway. As he walked out, he did not look back.
Gale’s mouth moved, but nothing came out. As if on automatic, she closed the door, and locked it.
The full reality of the situation striking her, Gale shot to the front of the apartment where she landed in the armchair, her knees burrowing into its cushions. She watched Salvan enter the taxi and pulled away, her face falling and shoulders drooping ever so deeper the farther the car drove down the street. When it became a speck on the horizon, Gale abruptly whipped around in the chair, her face a mass of emotions. Seized with doubt, regret, and fear, she raised a hand and began chewing on a fingernail like it was a steak—until she mentally heard Millo’s nagging admonishment of her habit and then, uttering an agitated groan, she switched to furiously taping her fingers.
Betty cautiously came out of the house. Seeing was all clear, she silently resumed her position on the stoop.
“You’re very close to your family, aren’t you?” Betty said, after a few minutes of studying the woman.
“Was,” Gale snorted. Slamming down a pillow, she jumped to her feet and began pacing, wiping away subtle tears as she went. “I miss my brothers and sister.” She glanced at a photograph on her dressing table. “And my nieces and nephews. I miss the big holiday dinners and family gatherings we used to have. I miss Salvan and my parents and home . . . .” She brushed away the stream that now flooded her cheeks.
Wrapping her arms around her upright knees, Betty laid her sorrowful head on it. “I miss my home, too,” she said quietly.
Gale stopped dead in her tracks, a look of surprise on her face as she stared at the small woman as if she’d never seen her before. “Aren’t your family with you?”
Betty shook her head, wiping away her own tear.
“How long have you been here?”
“Almost two years.”
“Two years!” Gale dropped onto the dining room chair. “Wow. . . ” She cocked her head thoughtfully at Betty and after a moment, shook her head. “I can’t even imagine what your life is like. How do you live—where do you live?”
“In the . . .” Betty halted. She liked Gale, and wished she didn’t have to lie to her, but she knew she had to for everyone’s sake back at Spindrift. “. . . places,” she finished with a frown.
“But you are with others, right? You’re not totally alone, are you?” Gale’s voice dripped with compassion. And concern.
Betty thought a moment, then shook her head. “Not any more.” Her heart sank. If she never returned to Spindrift, then it would be the truth.
“It’s Monday night and the club’s closed,” Gale slapped the table with her palm, “I feel like getting drunk!”
“So do I!” Betty said with delight. It had been too long since she’d been able to do anything except worry. And run. And hide. It would be wonderful, she thought, to eradicate her present misery, even if it was just temporary.
The giant woman crossed the room to a mahogany cabinet next to the couch. There, she pulled out a clear bottle of pale pink wine and a glass as Betty fetched a miniature mug from the dollhouse kitchen. After both glasses were filled, Betty raised hers in a toast. “To home,” she shouted.
“And family,” added Gale.
In tandem, the two women threw back their heads and drank it down. When finished, Gale took a miniature lounge chair from the second floor of the Colonial, and brought it tableside for Betty. She then refilled her glass as Betty dunked hers into a shot glass that held her trove of the liquid.
Over the next several hours, the two talked about their careers, their families and friends, and what their dreams had been or were.
“I dreamt of being married and having a family someday. Had I been on Earth, it might have happened.” Betty took another sip.
“I thought the same thing,” Gale confessed, draining the last drop of her glass. “I never really believed I’d become as much of a success as I have. That’s why it’s so hard for me to give it up. Another?”
Betty held out the mug. “Yes, please.” As she waited, she glanced towards the window where she observed the brilliant gold and pink colors of the setting sun. Thinking of the others, gloom and depression hit her like a boulder and she couldn’t wait to down another glass.
Under the lean-to, Valerie stood over Dan as he sat stiffly on a tree stump, his red, blistered palm held out to her. His lips thin, his face tight, Dan watched as Val gently positioned one end of the sterilized cloth on his hand and began to wrap it. Around them, Steve and the others watched on with concern.
“Be careful the next time you grab a pot on a hot fire,” Steve scolded, but there was no malice behind his words, only subdued worry.
“Betty always handled the cook-king,” Dan winced as Val pulled the cloth about the tender, salve-covered hand.
“That’s because you burn everything!” Fitzhugh boomed from the sapling he’d been leaning against. “We have little enough food as it is, and we—”
Dan spun, shooting the man a look that could kill. “Not everyone can be a gourmet, Mister Fitzhugh.”
Fitzhugh’s mouth twitched, but the warning had hit home. With a furious grunt, he skulked into the brush, leaving any further comments unsaid.
Valerie grinned broadly as she tied off the bandage, and tucked the ends under the cloth on the backside of the hand. “There, finished. And not a bad job, even if I do say so myself.” She looked at the others and waited for a contradiction, but no one gave it.
Dan flexed his hand, a pleased smile crossing his face. “That is good. Thank you, Val.”
“Just call me Florence Nightingale,” she beamed.
Dan’s head snapped up. He stared at her hard, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Nightingale . . . where have I—” his eyes shot wide, “that’s it!” He jumped to his feet and shot over to Steve. “That’s what he called her!”
Mark, hearing the commotion, left the ship’s exterior control panel he’d been working on and came over.
Steve shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. “What are you talking about?” he asked, standing up. Below him, Barry looked as baffled as the captain did.
“The giant who took Betty!” Dan shouted, grabbing Steve’s shoulders. “That’s what he called her!”
“Florence Nightingale?” growled Mark. “What kind of a name is that?”
“A singer’s name!” Val exclaimed with delight. “I may not be on Earth, but I still like to keep up with high society. Nightingale’s famous. I’ve seen her name several times in the newspaper and she’s on a poster I spotted just last week on the edge of town. She’s appearing in a club somewhere around here!”
Steve turned to Barry and took the matchstick weapon the boy held out for him. Steve then looked at the others, his face filled with renewed conviction. “In that case, it’s time to bring Betty home.”
It was long after nightfall by the time the travelers (minus Chipper) reached the entertainment district of the town. Valerie had taken them to the weatherworn poster where she had seen the name. From there it was easy for the group, with their knowledge of the city, to find the street where the nightclub was located.
Approaching their final destination via the nighttime shadows, the Spindrift six hid under a mailbox by the curb, from whence they surveyed the situation and discussed their next route.
There were many giants, men, women, and mostly couples, out on the streets, but they were too busy rushing along to the area’s numerous theaters to see what was at their feet. When show time came around, not too long after the six’s arrival, the area was suddenly deserted.
To the group’s growing discomfort, the marquee on their targeted building stayed unlit, while the interior remained dark and devoid of any sounds or movement.
Dan glanced at Steve, his lips tight. “I don’t like it. The place looks to be closed.”
“It probably is,” Valerie chimed in. “Some places shut down for at least one day a week to do cleaning and make repairs.”
“If this place is as prestigious as you say, then I bet they have a supply entrance. And that,” Steve pointed to the shadowy demarcation between the Four Seasons and the other building, “should be where it is.” He looked at his companions. “Shall we, everyone?”
First, they made sure no one or thing was around, then double-timed it to the entrance of the alleyway. When they weren’t chased, the group jogged deeper into the passage where they stopped below a single, bare light bulb. A light that illuminated a metal service door.
“This has got to be it,” said Dan, peering down the alley. “I don’t see any other entrances beyond this point.”
They spread out along the door’s threshold, then simultaneously slipped underneath, assembling on the other side. While memorizing their position (and exit route), they discovered something they had never seen before. Ornate wooden boxes containing petite, red lights hung at key positions throughout the corridor. Although the color shed an eerie glow upon the hall, it also revealed the way around the unfamiliar building.
“It must be their version of emergency lighting,” Mark commented, studying the fixture.
“The owners must really love this place,” Valerie commented, gliding her hand over the rich, textured wallpaper.
“From what we’ve seen so far, I bet they do,” Dan commented, peering down at the decorate floor tile. “They’ve invested a lot of money into it.”
“Good,” Steve blurted out, “then it’s doubtful they’d have an interior security dog.” With a wave of his hand, they continued onward. A quick check to the doors on either side revealed one to be a storage room, and the other the kitchen.
“It’s a safe bet, Betty’s not in either one of those,” quipped Valerie with a crooked smile.
A few minutes later, they reached another junction in the floor plan. At that point, they listened intently, but heard no sounds other than their own breathing within the structure.
“So far so good,” muttered Mark as they scrutinized the long, red-bathed hallway.
Fitzhugh looked one way then the other, and scowled. “How are we ever going to find Betty in this place? We don’t know where to look.”
“We found Nightingale, didn’t we?” crowed Valerie, her face bright with exhilaration. Two years on the planet hadn’t dampened her thrill for adventures. “Besides, what have you got to do for the rest of the night?”
“Dear lady—” but Steve’s hand to Fitzhugh’s chest ended any further retort.
“We’ll just have to split up,” Steve told them. “Valerie—”
“I know,” the redhead pouted, holding up the radio in her hand. She locked arms with the man next to her. “Let’s go, Fitzhugh,” and pulled the con man away, much to amusement of those behind her. “Ah . . . ” she did an abrupt about-face, again dragging Fitz with her. “Skipper? Contact in ninety?”
It had become procedure on search and rescue missions to reestablished contact, by either radio or in person, at the ninety-minute mark.
Steve broke into a delighted smile. “Contact in ninety.” After all the months on the planet, Valerie had finally learned the drill! He next nodded at the two closest to him. “Barry, you go with Dan.”
“Right, Captain,” Barry answered with confidence and enthusiasm, bringing a grin to Dan’s face. If the others had obeyed orders the way he did, Dan mused, they would have had less trouble all the way around.
“Contact in ninety,” echoed Dan as he urged Barry forward into their journey.
Steve looked at Mark. “How ‘bout we take the upstairs?”
“If you’re asking me my choice, I’d prefer the easier route,” there was a rare hint of teasing in Mark’s tone, “but since the others have that covered, let’s get it done.”
Without another word, the two trotted past the rooms they had seen their friends vanish into until they reached the far end of the hallway where the stairs were located. Luck, for once, was with them. The thick, ornamental baseboard ran throughout the entire building, and had been squared off on its top, which gave Mark and Steve enough room to walk up the staircase, as opposed to the usual tedious and exhausting climb.
“Just
a second,”
“Just in case the others need to know where we went,” explain Steve to the dubious Mark.
Next, they made their way upwards to the second floor landing where, to their surprise, a thin strip of yellow brightness cut through the redness like a beam. The light emanated from under a distant doorframe.
The
captain cocked his head to listen while
“Could be an office,” Mark suggested. “Somebody working late.”
“Could be.” Steve shook his head. “I don’t hear anything. Do you?”
“No. Let’s check it out.”
Minutes later, the pair slid under the door to the next side. Climbing to their feet, they blinked furiously at the assault of the room’s bright light. When their eyes had adjusted, they looked over the room, and found the accommodations just as plush as the rest of the building.
“I think we found our Nightingale,” Steve grinned with happy expectation. He scoured the higher areas for any signs of a cage, box, or even Betty, and immediately found a clue. Steve tapped Mark’s shoulder and pointed to the dollhouse on the dining table. “Jackpot.”
&nbs