Elliot Savant: A Free Fantastical Fable of Foster Flat Digital Short, Page 4

left for parts unknown, we might get lucky." Sly stood up and started toward the door.

  "Hey, you got a gun?" Dodger asked. "These folks could be dangerous."

  Sly stopped, a confused look on his face then smiled. "Yeah, thanks for reminding me." He walked behind the desk and opened the top drawer.

  "Here, you better take one too. No telling what we might be getting into." He said as he tossed a shiny black pistol to Dodger.

  "Are you serious?" Dodger asked as he caught the gun, then studied it, and the one Sly was holding. "Hey, these are water pistols."

  "Yeah, I know. Fancy, huh? More environmentally safe. Besides which, they're great for getting cats off of counters and the like. Stick it in your belt. Don't worry, they don't leak -- much."

  "No thanks," Dodger said, tossing it back. "I've got my own." He pulled his jacket open to show the butt of the pistol sticking out of the inside pocket.

  "You got wheels?" Sly asked.

  "Yeah, but they're on a skateboard," Dodger replied, pointing to the board next to the door.

  "Never mind." We'll take my car. It's a little faster, although not much. Let' go."

  They found the black Cadillac in the third trailer park.”

  Kid, you must be good luck for me. I figured we'd be spending the rest of the night checking out tin can dumps," Sly said as he cut the engine off. "We better wait a few minutes before we check it out. Let it get a little darker."

  "But we don't know what they might be doing to Elliot," Dodger protested.

  "I said we wait until dark. We won't do him any good if we're spotted and get shot for trespassing." Sly pushed the car's lighter in and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

  They sat in the car for several minutes as the sky darkened, and Dodger squirmed in his seat every few minutes to look back at the silver trailer. "Do you have any idea how we're going to get him out of there?"

  "No, not exactly. We'll play it by ear. First, I want to check out the lay of the land. The second car suggests there is at least one other person in the trailer. In a few more minutes, I'll sneak up and see what's going on."

  A couple more minutes passed. Finally, Sly snuffed out his third cigarette and glanced in the rear view mirror. "Okay, here I go."

  "I'll come with you," Dodger said as he started to open the door on his side.

  "No. Stay in the car ready to get us out of here if anything happens. I want you ready to drive this thing out of here. Don't worry about me. If I can't get my tail in the car as it goes by, I deserve to stay behind."

  Sly pulled the water pistol out of his belt. "You know how to drive a stick shift?"

  "Hell, yes," Dodger replied. He had driven straight shifts -- once. He remembered back to the time Uncle Matt had tried to teach him. They bumped and jumped and stalled for twenty minutes until Uncle Matt had finally lost his patience. But that was when Dodger was still a little kid; almost a year ago.

  Dodger held his hand over the light as Sly opened the car door. Sly eased the door closed and looked back at Dodger through the open window. "Remember, stay here."

  Dodger nodded, but Sly had already been swallowed by the darkness only to be regurgitated a few minutes later next to the trailer. Dodger could just make out his slender shape against the lighter background of the trailer. The shadow made its way to one of the windows, stopped for a few seconds, then moved on to the next window and stopped again.

  He makes a good peeping tom, Dodger thought. He's quiet and graceful -- like a cat.

  Dodger glanced down at the clock on the dash, but it was too dark to make out the hands. He pushed the lighter in and after a few seconds pulled it back out, using the glowing red tip to read the clock. He continued to check the clock for the next fifteen minutes until he began to wonder if the clock kept the right time. He had never known fifteen minutes to move so slowly; not even in Mrs. Peterson's class.

  "Damn, come on back here and tell me what's going on," he muttered, growing more exasperated by the minute.

  "Enough is enough," he said ten minutes later as he unscrewed the light bulb from the overhead lamp, then slipped out the door on the driver's side. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled across the driveway towards the trailer. He sat on his haunches next to Sly waiting for the detective to notice him, but all of Sly's attention was on what was happening on the other side of the window.

  Finally, frustrated by being ignored for so long, Dodger reached over and pulled on Sly's pant leg. The large man jumped as though he had been stuck with an electric cattle prod.

  Sly's right arm pulled back, ready to deliver a haymaker when at the last second he realized his attacker's size was too small to be much of a threat. Instead, he reached down and grabbed Dodger by the collar and pulled him up close to his face.

  "What the hell are you doing, scaring the shit out of me like that?"

  "I wasn't trying to scare you. I just wanted to know if they've killed my brother yet. You didn't seem interested in stopping them," Dodger whispered back. "Let go of me."

  Sly released his grip on Dodger's collar. "Sorry, I forgot about you. You wouldn't believe what's going on in there, or maybe you would since he's your brother. You didn't bother to tell me he was a psychic."

  "Well, it didn't . . . seem important." Dodger stammered. Psychic? What was going on in there?

  "Have you seen him in one of these trances before?" Sly asked.

  "Well, not in a long time. Let me see what you mean." Dodger stood on his tiptoes and looked through the window for the first time.

  Despite Sly's comments, he wasn't prepared for the sight before him. In the center of the room, sitting cross-legged on a large purple pillow was Elliot. But it didn't look like Elliot. He wasn't drooling, his face which Dodger had last seen twisted by pain and fear now had a peacefulness that bordered on angelic. Elliot stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. No, thought Dodger, not unfocused. More like they were focused on something that no one else was able to see.

  As Dodger continued to look, he noticed Elliot's lips moving, and Dodger could just make out a soft eloquent voice. Could that be coming from the mongoloid he's seen a few hours ago in the back of the Caddy? Somehow, since their first meeting, a magical transformation had taken place.

  Around Elliot, also sitting cross-legged, his back to the window was the old man who had almost run over Dodger and an even older woman Dodger didn't recognize. Between the two of them and across from Elliot sat a much younger woman, one vaguely familiar to Dodger and around them all was a circle of candles.

  "I recognize the younger lady across from Elliot," Dodger said as he noticed Sly had joined him at the window. "She's Mrs. Smotherman from the hardware store. What do you think they are they doing with all the candles?"

  "It's a seance." Sly whispered.

  It all started to make sense: the "Fortune from the Futures" on the side of the Caddy; the candles, even the funny looking outfit Elliot was wearing which made him look a little like a genie.

  "We've got to get my brother out of there before they kill him," Dodger said in a voice that was just barely a whisper.

  Sly pulled Dodger away from the window.

  "It doesn't look like anyone is planning to kill the boy, least not anytime in the near future," Sly said, still whispering.

  "I told you; they are. Those two kidnaped him and if we . . ."

  "I don't think so." Sly interrupted. "You're a right good liar. I'll give you that. I'm not usually sucked in so easily. But unless you tell me what is really going on here, I've got some pictures to hang back at the office."

  "No, you can't leave. You gotta save him." Dodger wasn't whispering anymore. "I swear, they aren't up to no good. You gotta believe meumpp. . . " Sly slapped a hand across his mouth and pulled him away from the trailer.

  "What was that?" A voice from the trailer asked. "Probably just a voice from the future." A gruff voice replied. "It happens sometimes."

  Sly pulled Dodger back towards the car. When he was sure the
y were out of earshot, he turned to Dodger.

  "Now talk, and if at all possible, try telling the truth this time.

  " Okay, I'll tell you the truth, I promise, but you've got to promise to help . . ."

  "Whoa. You're in no position to be making demands." Sly said.

  "If you want the truth, it's the only way I'll tell you," Dodger replied, stubbornly.

  Sly glared at him for several seconds before answering. "All right. I planned to help the boy anyway."

  Dodger relayed the story as it actually happened with Sly stopping him to ask an occasional question.

  In the end, Sly asked, "Why didn't you tell me the truth in the first place?"

  "Because I was afraid you wouldn't help me. I was desperate. No one ever listens to me. Uncle Matt wouldn't help when I told him the truth." Dodger stopped on the verge of tears.

  "I suspect that's because you tell the truth so seldom. Anyway. Let's see what we can do to get the kid out of there." Sly thought for a few minutes, then pulled Dodger close to him.

  " Okay, listen close. Here's the plan. We'll wait 'til Smotherman leaves . . ."

  The taillights of Ms. Smotherman's blue sedan disappeared down the road.

  " Okay, that's our cue. Let's go. Follow my lead," Sly said as he pulled his water pistol from his waist and started towards the side door of the trailer with Dodger close behind.

  He hit the door without even pausing. The door flew open, crashing against the wall. Side-by-side, Sly and Dodger ran into the room with guns drawn.

  "Freeze -- don't nobody move a muscle," they both shouted in