Chapter Fifteen
“Now that is a sweet airplane,” Mitch said as they approached the Gulfstream V parked on the tarmac at Chippewa Valley Regional Airport in Eau Claire. The tail fin glittered with a stylized golden “M” accented with lots of little curlicues and spirals at the edges, like Andrew Malarkay's signature.
The staircase was already unfolded near the front of the plane, and the pilots—a young redhaired man and a graying middle-aged woman—stood near the open baggage compartment underneath. A young woman, also with red hair, stood by the foot of the stairs. She wore a powder-blue suit and a golden pin in the same stylized “M” shape.
“Good morning, Mr. Becker and Mr. Schneidowski,” she said, smiling as they approached. She had an Irish accent. “Can we help you with your luggage?”
“They’re boys, they can handle it,” the female pilot said. “Just stow your things, and the kid will strap them down for you.” She nudged her younger co-pilot.
“Thanks!” Jason said. He tossed his suitcase into the compartment, then helped Mitch load up the black cases holding his keyboards and synthesizers. Mitch watched like a mother hen as the younger pilot strapped them into place, next to all the pieces of Dred’s drum kit, which were already secured.
“Those are delicate instruments. Very delicate,” Mitch said, again and again.
“I heard you each time,” the younger pilot finally replied, when he’d secured the cases.
“If you’ll follow me, gentlemen,” the young woman in the blue suit said. She began climbing the steps. “I’m Ciara, and I’ll be your flight attendant for this journey.”
“Whoa, we get a stewardess, too?” Mitch asked as he and Jason climbed the steps after her.
“Flight attendant,” Ciara repeated.
They followed her up through the open hatchway and into the plane. The interior was softly lit, trimmed in rich mahogany and maple wood. The thick carpet was soft as a pillow under Jason’s feet.
She led them through a galley with a marble counter underneath cherry wood cabinets displaying crystal and china.
“I can make you all manner of things,” Ciara said. “But my own specialty is crepes. I have what’s needed for seafood crepes, breakfast crepes, organic fruit and cream, chocolate and honey dessert crepes...do you fancy crepes?”
“Sounds good to me!” Mitch said.
“Simply alert me when you’re hungry or thirsty. And here’s the main cabin.” She drew aside a curtain at the end of the galley.
“Whoa,” Mitch said.
The spacious cabin had a number of huge, dark leather chairs, some of them arranged around a table, others alongside the windows. Each chair had its own small color monitor and stereo speakers in the headrest.
Beyond the chairs were long, soft divans that faced each other. Dred was stretched out on one with her hands tucked behind her head.
“Oh, hi, boys,” Dred said. “I’ve already called dibs on this spot. See you in Ireland.” She closed her eyes.
Ciara pointed out the two doors at the back of the plane. “The door on your right is the passenger lavatory. Straight ahead, you’ll find a king-size bed in the stateroom. I hope you find all these accommodations acceptable.”
“Acceptable?” Jason sank to the divan opposite Dred. “Holy cow.”
“The complete library of Malarkay Media movies and music is available at all seats,” Ciara said. “Any further questions?”
“Um...I think we’re pretty good,” Mitch said.
“Let me know if you need anything at all,” Ciara said as she left through the curtain into the galley.
“Thanks!” Jason called after her.
“Isn’t this awesome?” Mitch asked, swiveling around in his chair. “Dred, how are you not freaking out right now?”
“I got here twenty minutes ago,” Dred told him, without sitting up or opening her eyes. “I’ve already moved on to my post-freak-out crash, thanks.”
“I never want to leave this airplane,” Mitch said. “When we get to Ireland, I’m going to refuse to get off.”
“I don’t think that will work,” Dred said.
“What do you think, Jason?” Mitch asked.
“I think it’s all starting to feel real,” Jason told him.
The curtain parted again, and Ciara led Erin and Zach into the cabin.
“Sweet!” Zach said, looking around. Erin gaped silently as Ciara gave them the same quick tour of the plane. Zach kept saying “Sweet!” and “Swank!” and “Check this out!”
“Pretty great, huh, Erin?” Mitch asked.
“Um...wow,” Erin said. “I can’t believe my first plane ride will be in one of these. This is going to spoil me.”
“We’ve been instructed to depart as soon as the four of you arrived,” Ciara said. She smiled at Zach. “And as the handsome young man won’t be flying with us...”
“Time for me to get out of the way?” Zach asked, returning her bright smile.
Jason caught himself nodding his head.
Zach took Erin in his arms and gave her a kiss that seemed to go on...and on...and on...
Jason drummed his fingers. The flight attendant cleared her throat.
Finally, the long kiss ended, and Ciara took Zach’s arm and led him back through the curtain.
“So, what’s your name again?” Jason heard Zach ask as the young Irish woman escorted him off the plane.
“This is insane.” Erin sank onto the same divan as Jason, though she sat disappointingly far away from him. “Is anybody else afraid of flying?”
“You’ll be okay,” Jason said.
“Yeah, it might start off scary, but before you know it, it’s incredibly boring,” Dred said.
“We’ll be moving over to the runway in a moment,” Ciara said, stepping through the curtain. “So we’ll all need to secure ourselves for takeoff, if you don’t mind.”
Dred took a chair, reclined it, and looked out the oval window. Erin walked up to the conference/dining table and took an aisle seat, getting as far from the window as possible, and closed her eyes.
Jason sat across from Erin. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know what to say.
“It’ll be okay,” Jason whispered. “We’ll be safe.”
Erin opened her eyes and smiled at him a little, but she was pale with fear.
Behind him, the speakers on Mitch’s headrest blasted to life. Jason couldn’t see Mitch and Dred, but he assumed he was hearing Mitch’s chair, because it was a song by Claudia Lafayette, one that had played nonstop over the radio the previous year:
My party girls, we rule the night,
You’re gonna get schooled tonight!
We drive the boys right out of their minds,
‘Cause my girls and me, we’re crazy fine...
“Seriously, Mitch?” Dred asked.
“Are you really going to listen to that?” Jason asked.
“He’s not just listening,” Dred said. “He’s watching the video on his little screen.”
“It’s not my fault. It was at the top of the ‘Recommended’ list,” Mitch said.
“You didn’t have to take the recommendation,” Dred said. “Turn it off.”
“I’ll turn it down,” Mitch said, and the volume dropped slightly, but it was still clearly audible throughout the cabin.
The plane’s engines rumbled to life.
“Oh, good,” Dred said. “Maybe that’ll drown it out.”
Erin and Jason watched out the window while the plane taxied over to the longer of the airport’s two runways. It maneuvered into place, and then the engines rumbled louder and louder as they built up steam.
The brakes released, and the plane charged along the runway, accelerating as it went. The interior of the airplane shuddered.
Then, out the window, the ground dropped away, and the ride became smooth, though the plane inclined steeply as it gained altitude.
“Oh, no!” Erin squeezed her eyes close
d, and her hands curled into tight fists on the tabletop between them.
“Woo-hoo!” Mitch cheered behind Jason.
Jason reached toward Erin’s hand, then stopped himself. He looked at her bracelets—two of them beaded, one of them made of black leather, like a punk dog collar. He looked at her pale hand and white knuckles. Then he reached again and took one of her hands in his own.
She opened her eyes, and her green irises locked onto him. Jason looked back at her. Her mouth worked silently, as if she was whispering something under the rumble of the engines. She kept staring into his eyes, unblinking, and Jason held her stare. He felt like he was holding her up somehow.
Her fingernails dug into his palm, and her hand felt warm and sweaty against his skin. Jason’s hand was trembling, too—he’d only flown a couple of times, and takeoff scared him, too. He managed to keep a fake smile on his face, not that Erin noticed. Her gaze didn’t stray from his eyes. His heart was thumping fast, his fear mingled with the delight of momentarily holding her hand.
Then the plane leveled off, and soon it felt like they weren’t even moving.
“Sorry,” Erin said, pulling her hand back from him. “I didn’t mean to freak out.”
“You didn’t freak out,” Jason said. He opened his hand to show her the four deep red marks left by her stabbing fingernails. “See? You didn’t even draw blood.”
“Oh my gosh! I’m sorry!” Erin pressed her hand against his. She held it there a moment while they looked at each other.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Whew! Now it’s time to party.” Mitch unbuckled his seatbelt and then played Chrome Ninja, another Malarkay Records hit band, over the biggest speakers on the plane:
We’re gonna hunt you down!
With our evil sound!
We’re gonna hunt you down...
“Come on,” Dred said. “Change it.”
But Mitch was already walking into the lavatory, leaving the door open behind him.
“Nice!” Mitch said. “This toilet’s gold-plated! There’s rose petals floating in the bowl. I’m so calling first pee.”
Mitch opened the door at the back of the lavatory.
“Oh, guys!” Mitch said. “It’s just a wall-to-wall bed back here.” He flung himself down onto the soft mattress. “You have to come try this. It’s perfect.”
Dred changed the stereo selection from Chrome Ninja to some old jazz that Jason didn’t recognize.
“I’m serious,” Mitch said. He’d taken off his shoes and was now jumping up and down on the stateroom bed, stooping his head to avoid hitting the low ceiling of the airplane. “This is an amazing bed.”
“Stop jumping on the bed, Mitch,” Dred said.
“Why? Don’t you think Mick Jagger would jump up and down on a bed if he felt like it? We’re rock stars now, Mildred, and we have to start acting the part.”
While Mitch spoke, a projection screen quietly unrolled from the ceiling. The little monitors mounted above the dining/conference table came to life, and so did all the little monitors at every chair throughout the cabin.
A familiar face appeared on all the screens—very old, very craggy, with reddish cheeks. Jason had seen the infamous Irish billionaire several times on television, and he was an imposing, broad-shouldered man who stood more than seven feet tall.
“Hello,” the man said, his voice booming from every sound system in the cabin. “I am Andrew Malarkay.”
“Oh!” Mitch immediately jumped off the bed and scurried out of the stateroom, up the aisle. “Wow. I am so sorry, Mr. Malarkay. I wasn’t jumping on the bed. I mean, I was, but only because...see, I have this back condition...my chiropractor...um...sorry, I won’t do it again.”
“This is a recorded greeting from me to you,” Malarkay continued.
“Dummy,” Dred snickered at Mitch, who stood in his socks before the big projection screen.
Mitch sighed in relief and dropped onto a divan.
“If you’re watching this, then you are a recently acquired employee, associate or subsidiary of The Malarkay Group,” Malarkay continued. He had a sharp smile and intense, bright eyes the color of emeralds. “I like everyone to learn a little bit about the organization.”
The image on the screen switched to black and white footage of men in plaid caps and patched white shirts erecting a radio tower on top of what looked like a wooden house.
“We began as Malarkay Broadcasting in 1921,” Malarkay narrated. The image flipped to a black and white map of Ireland, with cartoon radio towers planted like conquering flags all over the island. Animated radio waves radiated from each of the towers. “By the 1960s, Malarkay was introducing rock and roll music to the Irish people. Then Malarkay Records began producing original music.” The screen now showed black and white video of teenagers dancing in their socks next to a jukebox.
“The Seventies saw a great expansion into England and Scotland, as we began buying local television stations and newspapers.” A flurry of images showed the clock tower Big Ben and other London landmarks, then men with thick sideburns and bright polyester suits shaking hands over a conference table.
“And then came the Eighties.” A map of North America appeared, and more cartoon broadcasting towers appeared like weeds, spreading westward across Canada and the United States. “We reached out into the American market, bought the failing Starlight Studios in Hollywood, and renamed it Malarkay Pictures.” News footage showed Andrew Malarkay, a few decades younger, cutting a ribbon with a pair of giant scissors while reporters snapped pictures. Behind him was the Malarkay Pictures backlot, where a flying saucer was parked next to Roman ruins.
“Malarkay Pictures produced some of the best-loved films of the 1980s, including The Cute Little Alien, Back to the Time Machine, and No Dancing Allowed.” Clips of these movies played while Malarkay spoke. Then the scene switched to the crowded Malarkayland amusement park in Dublin.
“Today, The Malarkay Group has branched out into industries as diverse as software, fashion, and frozen desserts.” On the screen, a chubby boy fired a plastic cannon at a holographic mutant alien zombie. He was playing Mutant Alien Zombie 17, clearly the full-size arcade version. Then the scene switched to two girls with ribbons and pigtails, eating bright-colored cones in front of an “Abominable Snowcone” franchise.
The view switched back to Andrew Malarkay's face.
“We hope you’ll learn more about this great company as you work with us,” he said. “For now, I just want to say...welcome to the family. And have a lucky day.”
His face smiled, then froze, then disappeared. The projection screen silently rolled up into the ceiling.
“Wow, I had no idea they were that big,” Jason said. He stood up and stretched. Erin stayed buckled into her seat.
“Just think what they can do for us.” Mitch was pacing the soft-carpeted aisle in his socks. “Radio, TV, movie soundtracks...”
“Video games, too,” Dred said. “Our music could be everywhere.”
“There could even be a video game about us!” Mitch said. “You know, like Claudia Lafayette’s Flower Power?”
“I bet you play that game all the time,” Jason said.
“Yeah, but only ironically,” Dred said, imitating Mitch’s voice.
“That is not...I do not sound like that!” Mitch said.
“I hope you had a nice takeoff,” Ciara said as she returned to the cabin. “Who wants crepes?”
“I will.” Jason sat across from Erin again. “Do you want something?”
“I don’t know if I can eat.” Erin still looked jangled and nervous.
“It might make you feel better. Can I get some of the fruit ones?” Jason asked.
“Strawberry, blueberry, fig...?” Ciara asked.
“That all sounds good,” Jason said. “Well, maybe not fig.”
“I’ll have one, too,” Erin said. “Chocolate.”
“Wait, I’m getting in on
this.” Mitch said, as he and Dred dropped into the seats beside them.
“This should be good,” Mitch said, as Ciara left for the galley.
“It’s too good,” Dred said. “Why are they spending all this money on us?”
“Because they know we’re valuable,” Mitch said.
“Right...And this Heath Blank guy who’s going to be our producer? What do you think of him?” Dred asked.
“He’s supposed to be really good,” Erin said.
“But have you listened to the stuff he’s produced?” Dred asked. “I mean, we’re going with the guy who inflicted DJ Smoov-Moov on the world?”
“Erin’s songs are a lot better than that junk,” Jason said. “Just imagine what happens when you take songs that are actually good and put them all over the radio and TV.”
“We’re going to be huge,” Mitch said.
“Um, my songs aren’t that good,” Erin said.
“Doesn’t matter, anyway. We still have the fairy instruments,” Mitch said.
“Doesn’t this feel like cheating, though?” Dred asked. “Jason swipes a few magic instruments, suddenly everybody loves our music, and then all of this happens?”
“It’s totally cheating,” Mitch said. “That’s what makes it easy.”
“And dangerous,” Jason said, thinking of the dragon.
“Don’t be a downer, Jayce,” Mitch said.
“Don’t call me Jayce, Mitch.”
“Don’t call me Mitch. Call me Mick.”
“Never,” Jason said.
“Okay, boys,” Dred said. “Erin, what do you think? Isn’t it strange they’re spending all this money on us?”
“Maybe they expect to make a lot more,” Erin said. “You saw how crazy everybody went back home. It’s the fairy magic. It could be really valuable.”
“It’s valuable for getting party crashers out of your house,” Jason said. “Amazing move there, by the way.”
Erin grinned.
“Where did you take all those people?” Mitch asked.
“You know Mrs. Dermott?” Erin asked.
“The social studies teacher?” Dred asked. “She’s horrible.”
“She was horrible when I had her, too,” Jason said.
“Yeah, her house,” Erin said. “You should have seen her face!”
“Those people were acting psycho,” Dred said.
“Apparently it all started at this sophomore named Wendy Molton’s house,” Erin said.
“Oh, I know her,” Jason said. “Big fan. She’d buy the t-shirt, if we had one.”
“T-shirts! We should have thought of that.” Mitch snapped his fingers.
“I guess they were blasting the music from our YouTube videos over and over,” Erin said. “Dancing to that, and then they found out we were having a party...”
“And they swarmed all over my house,” Jason said.
There was a puff of green smoke between Jason and Mitch, and then Grizlemor appeared on Jason’s armrest. The goblin yawned, rubbed his eyes, then sniffed the air like a dog.
“Do I smell cooking?” Grizlemor asked.
“She’s making us crepes in the galley.” Jason pointed at the curtain.
“Ah, the galley,” Grizlemor said. “Two words that roll beautifully off the tongue. Like ‘free food.’”
“Stay out of there,” Jason warned the goblin. “She’ll think you’re a big green rat or something.”
The curtain shifted aside. Jason looked up and almost panicked at the sight of the flight attendant wheeling a polished wooden cart with a white tablecloth and four silver dishes. He glanced back at Grizlemor, but the goblin had either vanished in a puff or dove away under the table.
Ciara set out their crepes and served orange juice in crystal champagne glasses. Jason’s were full of berries and cream, topped with honey. Erin’s was stuffed with chocolate and dusted with sugar.
“What did you order?” Grizlemor asked, poking his head up from under the table.
“I guess you can have my strawberry crepe,” Jason said.
Grizlemor made a gagging sound. “Please. In the galley, I saw fish eggs, duck liver, and egg gravy. Have her toss that together.”
“I’m not asking her to make that,” Jason said.
“You mean caviar, foie gras, and hollandaise sauce?” Dred asked the goblin.
“Hmph. If you want to use fancy words.” Grizlemor crossed his arms and looked out the window.
“I thought he was going to be our roadie,” Dred said, looking at Grizlemor. “Where were you when we were loading our gear?”
“I was napping,” Grizlemor said. “Besides, my main job is to help you stay alert to dangers from the fairy world. Especially Queen-related dangers that could end with me getting thrown into the labyrinth and gobbled up by monsters. My roadie work is just a side bonus.”
“Not much of a bonus,” Mitch said.
“Grizlemor has a point, though,” Jason said. “We really need to take the threats from the fairy world more seriously. Especially if we’re going to be famous.” Jason cut into his crepe with the side of his fork. The smell of warm, ripe strawberries made his mouth water. He raised the first bite to his mouth.
“Careful,” Erin said. “They say once you eat the food in the fairy world, you can never leave.”
“But we’re not in the fairy world,” Jason said.
“It feels like we are, though, doesn’t it?” Erin asked. “The record contract, the luxury jet...”
Jason smiled and took a bite. It was sweet and delicious, and he immediately wanted more.