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“What are you doing here?” Nick asked.
Charlie found that he had no words to explain all he was thinking and feeling, so instead he began to sing.
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind . . .”
Then before he could change his mind or be pulled away, he reached out his hand . . .
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne . . .”
. . . and he touched the statue.
“Charlie, no!”
But the deed was done. A coin-size piece of the statue vanished, and a tunnel appeared before him with a light at its end, both bright and warm. Suddenly all the memories that had been lost to Charlie came back to him.
Something was talking in his head now too—not a voice, but a feeling. It was something he knew he was meant to share, but his mind was so full of memories of the life he had lived, it was hard to make room for the words that were fuzzily forming in his head. Still, he tried to get them out as best as he could, because he knew he didn’t have much time.
“Fat Alamo . . . the Trinity . . . Ground Zero . . .”
“Charlie?”
“Hey, that’s right! Charlie really is my name! How about that?”
Then he shot down the tunnel into the light and got where he was going.
CHAPTER 45
Mikey, the God
There was only so much Mikey could take, so many petty transformation requests from the king and his flatterers that he could stomach. He had once told Clarence that he was not a circus monkey, yet this was his role in the court of King Yax, and although the king promised no leash, he might as well have been on one. Jix had told him to have patience, but that had never been, nor would it ever be, one of Mikey McGill’s virtues.
When he tired of showing Mikey off around the city, the king boarded his sedan chair, carried by four strong subjects, each with one shoulder substantially lower than the other. He made Mikey walk.
“Come, changeling,” the king said, “we shall return to the forge to witness the completion of the statue, and you shall entertain us with your transformations there.”
They made their way through the dancing, singing, partying crowds, and as they crossed the huge grass square, where the shadow of the pyramid fell, Mikey came across Jix.
“This isn’t working,” he told Jix, lagging far enough behind the king so he couldn’t hear. “I can change myself into too many things—he’ll never get bored.”
“Yes, it’s a problem,” Jix admitted.
“And I have a solution,” said Mikey. “But I need you to distract the king so I can get away.”
“Not now, I’m busy” said Jix. “The king’s vizier has vanished, and I have to find him.”
“Why?” said Mikey. “Vari’s a weasel. If you can’t find him, it’s good riddance. I’d be happy to never see him again.”
“Yes, but weasels are sneaky,” said Jix, “and he’s likely to pop out of the mulberry bush at the worst possible time.”
“Look for him later. Distract the king now,” Mikey said. “I promise you’ll be glad you did.”
And so reluctantly, Jix made his way to the front of the sedan chair.
“Your Excellency,” Jix said. “I need to discuss with you the . . . uh . . . the Inca threat to our southern border.”
“What Inca threat?” asked the king. “Why weren’t we informed of this?”
While behind them, Mikey slipped away.
