chapter 3
the fulcrum
The jet took off and rose into the clear blue sky. Johnnie watched the ground fall away with mild interest. He had never flown before.
'So, Johnny, you must be wondering what's going on,' asked Samuel McDolby. He sat to Johnny's right, in a leather-upholstered chair.
'Yes,' replied Johnnie. That morning had been peculiar enough to prick even his bubble of non- interest.
The tall man unclipped his seatbelt and stood. 'Come over here.' He walked to a map of the world that lay pinned to a board. Johnny followed and stood next to him. 'You ever heard the saying that money makes the world go round?' he asked.
'I think so,' said Johnny.
'Well, it's rubbish. Four things make the world go round, Johnny. Any ideas?'
'No.'
'Courage, hope, love and joy, or the lack of them. You don't feel any of those things, do you lad?'
'I don't think so. The doctor says I need medicine.'
'Piffle!' exclaimed Derek. 'Gave you some little pink pills, didn't he?'
'Yes.'
'Quacks! The lot of them.'
Johnnie certainly didn't feel any different since taking the pink pill. He wondered how Derek knew about the medicine, or even where he lived for that matter.
Samuel cleared his throat. 'Yes, quite,' he said. 'There is only thing that can cure what ails you, lad.'
'The Fulcrum,' said Derek.
Samuel raised an eyebrow. 'Yes, Derek. The Fulcrum.' He turned and tapped the map with a finger. 'Do you know where this is, Johnnie?'
'England?' said Johnnie.
'Americans,' Samuel sighed. He cleared his throat and coughed. That is Scotland- 'Home of the Brave,' and also to one of the four Aspects of the Fulcrum.'
'Courage!' said Derek, sounding pleased with himself.
'Yes, Derek. Courage.'
The ginger haired man beamed like a boy with first prize.
'Your ancestors came from Scotland, and we're taking you back,' said Samuel.
'But why me?' asked Johnny. All this strange talk of Aspects and Fulcrums had left him confused. What was all the fuss about? I'm nothing special, nothing exciting.
'Yes, well. I wondered about that myself,' replied Samuel.
'Because you're the Fulcrum,' exclaimed Derek.
'But you said the Fulcrum would cure me,' said Johnnie.
'Yes, that's what I mean,' said Samuel quickly, before Derek could interrupt again. 'How could you be the Fulcrum, and yet be cured by it? Hmm.'
The tall man moved back to his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a leather bound book, cracked with age. Opening up the book, he licked his fingers and flicked through wrinkled pages. 'This is the diary of Lord William McDolby, your great, great, great, great grandfather.' The book was filled with spidery writing and strange symbols, and drawings of what looked to be ancient science class equipment.
'I guess you could say he was a scientist, of sorts,' said Samuel. 'Ah, here it is. 'When the one becomes whole, the two become one. A door opens into one world, and closes on the other,'' he quoted.
Derek nodded his head wisely.
'I spent many a year trying to understand that,' said Samuel.
'What does it mean?' asked Johnnie.
'Ah, that's the question, what does it mean?' replied Samuel.
Derek shook his head. 'Yes, what does it mean?'
Samuel raised a bushy eyebrow again. 'Derek?'
'Yes, Johnnie?'
'Make us a cup of tea, there's a good man.'
'O.K, Samuel,' said Derek. He moved to the back of the jet, humming a little tune.
'Where was I? Oh yes, what does it mean? As far as I can tell, it means a doorway has opened between our world and another. When the doorway to your feelings is opened, the doorway to that world will be closed. The first half- you- needs to be filled with the four Aspects to become whole. Only then can it join with the second half.'
'The fulcrum?' asked Johnnie.
Samuel smiled. 'What a bright boy you are!'
'Thank you,' said Johnnie. He had learned it was the polite thing to say.
'You must join with the four Aspects, and then they can join with the fulcrum.'
'And that will give me feelings?'
'Surely.'
'Well, thank you, I guess. But it seems a lot of trouble just to give me feelings. I mean, I don't even know if I want them.'
'Fair answer, but there's much more at stake than that.'
'Tea's ready,' called Derek.
'Excellent, what would I do without you, Derek?' replied Samuel. He winked at Johnny and grinned.
Johnny looked away. Why do they wink? Why do they laugh or cry, or get angry? Are feelings so important only because they have them?
'Here's your tea,' said Derek.
'Thanks, Derek. Some biscuits for the lad?'
'Oh. I'll see what we've got.'
After clearing his throat again, Samuel coughed into a handkerchief. 'You see, according to this diary, somebody like you is born into our family every seven generations.' He paused and took a sip of tea.
'I've found some,' called Derek from the back of the aircraft.
'And every seven generations the world' well, it comes to a crossroads.'
Johnny had tried hard to understand, but this was all a bit too much. He took a step closer to the window and the beckoning patch of blue sky beyond.
'An ancient bargain with the old gods means that''
'Here you are, Johnny,' said Derek, handing the youth a small plate of brown biscuits.
'' If the door between our world and theirs is not closed within seven full moons, the old gods shall return to walk the earth,' said Samuel.
Biting into the biscuit, Johnnie took another step toward the window.
'And wage war upon mankind... Are you listening to me, kid?'
'I think the lad might be a touch tired,' said Derek, smiling. 'He's had an exciting morning.'
Johnnie did not feel tired, but he was finding this all difficult to understand. If he tried really hard, he remembered things for a while, but mostly he found it easier to forget. Seven generations'? Gods? It sounded like one of those books his brother read.
'Six full moons have already passed'' continued Samuel.
'Can I speak to my mother?' Johnny asked, interrupting.
'What?' asked Samuel. The old man's eyebrows knotted and the scar on his cheek darkened.
'When I went on holidays with dad, mom told me to ring her every day.'
'This is gonna be harder than I thought,' muttered Samuel. He pulled his chair back from the desk. 'Sit; you can write her a letter. Phone-calls can be traced.'
'Thank you,' said Johnny.
The tall man coughed into his handkerchief. He bent and heaved like a sick dog.
'Are you alright?' asked Derek.
'Get' my' medication,' replied Samuel, between labored breaths.
'Yes, Sammy.' Derek rushed to the back of the plane, his blue eyes narrowed with concern.
Placing one hand on the desk, Samuel wiped his mouth with the other. 'I'm dying, Johnny. There's nothing they can do. This is my last chance to leave something important behind. Do you understand?'
'I guess so.'
'You will.' The man smiled. 'No doubt about it; you will.' He placed a hand on the youth's shoulder, and Johnny felt the fingers quiver.
'Coming, Sammy,' called Derek.
'Everything depends upon it.' Samuel's smile turned into a grimace. He coughed again. 'Everything in the world.'
