The Eyes Of Kid Midas

3 THE BALANCE OF DARK AND DAY

As anyone who has done it can tell you, most of the really important mountain-climbing lessons are learned the first time. Kevin's and Josh's first lessons were, in fact, five of the most important ones:

All of this added together equals the biggest, lesson of all:

None of this, however, was going to stop Kevin and Josh.

It took them over an hour to make their way around the face of the mountain and find a point where they could begin climbing. Another hour later, their flashlights could only create dull brown patches on the ground that wouldn't help an ant find its way.

Halfway through the night, lit only by the bright moonlight, Kevin and Josh were beginning to stumble. Their legs were getting scratched and bruised through their jeans, and the soles of their Nikes were fraying and going bald faster than Mr. Kirkpatrick.

And there was the ever-present sense that they were not alone on the mountain.

With nothing but forest sounds and the monotonous padding of his own aching feet to occupy his mind, Kevin's vivid imagination began to conjure up all sorts of dark mountain terrors. Bigfoot to the left, mountain lions to the right, and up ahead the fluttering of bats. Vampire bats. Big ones that could swarm over you and suck you dry in seconds, the way piranhas could devour a horse. And vultures would pick at our bones, thought Kevin.

Kevin knew Josh was thinking the same sorts of things, but he wasn't saying anything. As long as they didn't slow down and didn't talk about it, everything would be fine. The farther they got, the harder it was to turn back—especially with all those sounds echoing behind them.

After what seemed like an eternity, the trees became fewer and farther between, until they finally gave way to prickly bushes and jagged rocks. The moon was a pumpkin on the horizon, and dawn gently hinted on the opposite side of the sky. It was sometime around five thirty when they finally dared to rest on a flat granite plateau.

Kevin looked up at the mountain summit as he dumped sand and pebble from his ruined shoes. It still appeared far away.

"I don't know who's dumber," said Josh, "you for coming up with this stupid idea, or me for coming with you!"

Kevin leaned back against the cold rock, trying to catch his breath. "We're almost there," he said. Now dawn was wasting no time. Kevin could already see a blurry ribbon of red where the sun would eventually rise.

"You know, I've been thinking," said Josh. "Maybe . . . maybe if something does happen up there at sunrise . . . maybe we're not supposed to see it."

"I thought you didn't believe the story," said Kevin.

"I don't," said Josh. "But still..."

Kevin imagined some of the things that might happen. Their hair could turn white. They could be blinded for life. At almost six in the morning, after a sleepless night, Kevin could believe almost anything.

"Naah," said Kevin. "Anyway, if we weren't supposed to be here, something would have stopped us by now."

"Killed us, you mean," corrected Josh.

That's when they heard it again—more clearly than before. The steady padding of feet, and a hint of heavy breath—like an animal—a huge animal on four feet. Kevin and Josh froze as they looked down the slope into darkness.

Kevin smelled it before they saw anything—a sickly sweet smell, like rotting fruit. Kevin instantly knew the nature of the beast by its smell.

"It's Bertram!" said Kevin.

And thirty-some-odd yards down the mountain came a distant, surprised voice. "Who's that?"

Kevin and Josh could see more clearly now—there were two of them. Hal and Bertram had dared to climb the mountain together, and now they stared at Kevin and Josh with jaws dropped halfway to their knees.

Bertram clenched his fists and gritted his donkey teeth. "Midas," he screamed, "if you and Wilson get to the top before we do, you die!"

That was all Kevin needed to hear.

"Let's go! Move your butt!" Kevin nearly dragged Josh up the mountain with him. This was their climb, and Kevin would rather die than let Bertram and Hal muscle in on it.

The top of the mountain, which had seemed so far away before, now looked close enough for Kevin to touch. It came to a sharp peak, like a witch's hat, but the very top was flat, and just big enough, perhaps, for someone to stand on it.

That someone is going to be me! thought Kevin as he lifted his aching feet one after the other, getting higher and higher.

There were no more bushes to grab on to, only sharp stone. "Dead meat!" yelled Bertram. "You guys are both dead meat!"

Kevin didn't care. Chills ran down the length of his body, and his fingertips began to tingle. He had actually climbed a mountain! Suddenly Kevin no longer felt exhausted, no longer felt the fear of the climb. All that remained in him was a burning desire to touch the top of the Watch. He reached down to help Josh, and Josh helped push Kevin higher when there wasn't anything to grip. They were a perfect team, and now Josh was filled with the same determination Kevin felt. Kevin almost had to fight to stay in the lead.

"If we do this, Kevin," said Josh, "we'll be legends. We'll be legends forever."

Bertram and Hal were closing in, right on Josh's tail. Screaming at each other, blaming each other for not moving fast enough.

The four boys found themselves clinging to the mountain at the steepest part of the climb, and for the first time Kevin could see how high and dangerous this climb was; one slip and he would crash down onto hard rocks hundreds of feet below. The fear only added to his excitement. Wouldn't his parents just roll over and die if they saw him now? He would have laughed—if he could catch his breath.

The crimson horizon had bloomed into a bright blue streak of dawn, and the night raced away with a howling wind that tore at the boys as they scaled the last few feet of the Divine Watch. In moments the sun would peer over the horizon, marking the balance of dark and day. Bertram and Hal were in line right below Josh and had given up trying to get there first. Now they would settle for getting there, period. It was as if the rest of the world had vanished, and all that remained were four boys, and the brutally steep mountain.

The wind chilled Kevin to the bone, buffeting his exhausted body. It blew into his face, making his eyes wet and cold. Above him, the clouds changed shape and danced by faster than any Kevin had ever seen before.

He reached out his right hand, stretching it as far as he possibly could, and finally, after a whole night climbing, his fingertips touched the flat top of the Divine Watch. He reached up his left hand and pulled himself up so that he could gaze across the top.

As Kevin's eyes cleared the top of the Watch, the first rays of sun shot from the horizon behind him, growing more powerful with each passing moment. They hit his back, warming his ice-cold neck. The bright light cast the shadow of Kevin's curly blond head across the smooth tabletop surface of the Divine Watch. Yes—that's what it was like—a polished stone tabletop, smooth and round, no more than three feet across.

Even with his fuzzy vision, Kevin could tell that the view was spectacular. The mountains before him gave way to rolling hills and then an expanse of desert, still cloaked in shadow. Beyond the desert was a blur that could have been anything to his nearsighted eyes.

"What's it like, Kevin?" yelled Josh over the sound of the wind.

"Do you see anything up there?" yelled Hal.

Kevin looked at the smooth surface. There was something there! Something small and shiny; a ball of light grabbing the sun, changing its color and scattering it across the mountaintop, but the glare from the sun made it hard for Kevin to see what it was.

"Well, what's happening up there, Midas?" yelled Bertram. "We ain't got all day!"

Kevin squinted his eyes and pulled himself up another inch, until his head eclipsed the sun, and the object was trapped in his shadow. The object, which seemed so formless before, now had a definite shape that Kevin recognized immediately.

"It's . . . it's a pair of glasses!" said Kevin.

"Aw, you've got to be kidding!" cried Hal.

"No, really!" It was a pair of sunglasses, dark, sleek, and smooth. Its lenses were a single visor-like blade suspended from a black-and-gold half frame. The dark, silvery lenses seemed to shimmer with colors, like the northern lights.

Someone must have been here before, thought Kevin. Instead of carving their initials, they must have left the glasses to stake their claim.

As Kevin stretched out his arm across the Divine Watch, toward the glasses, the wind screamed in his ears, and the reality he'd been fighting back all night suddenly took hold.

What was he doing here? He could fall! He could die! What was he thinking? Panic screamed at him, like a thousand voices in the wind, demanding he leave this dangerous place now and get back to the campsite this very instant.

Still, he wanted those glasses. They would be his prize for reaching the top first. He fought against the panicking voices and hooked the glasses with his index finger, pulling them toward him.

"Let us get up there, Midas. Get out of the way!" demanded Bertram.

"Just a second." Kevin looked at the glasses closely. They were the height of style, and must have been very, very expensive. He put them on, hooking the smooth gold-and-black half frame around his ears.

Blackness . . .

. . . then a speck of light as his eyes began to adjust to the dark lenses. But it was more than just his eyes adjusting. It was as if the lenses were lightening up for his eyes, bringing everything into focus. These weren't mere sunglasses—they seemed to fit Kevin's prescription as well. They were perfect. All right—they were a bit too big for his head, but otherwise they couldn't be beat.

Now the view before him stretched out in perfect focus. He could see lines of roads, little insect dots that must have been cars. The blur beyond the desert was very definitely a mountain range on the horizon. The solitary shadow of the Divine Watch painted a gray triangle across the sands, and the shadow's tip rested on a tiny sliver of rock that stood up like a hairline spike in the distant mountain range.

"I can see it!" screamed Kevin, only half believing.

"What?" asked Josh.

"The Devil's Chair! Just like Kirkpatrick said! Just like he said!"

"How can you see anything?" asked Hal. "You're as blind as a bat!"

Josh's eyes cleared the top and he scanned the horizon.

"I don't see a thing!" said Josh. "It's too hazy!"

Kevin tried to climb higher, daring to actually stand atop the Divine Watch, but it was not meant to be. He was in too much of a hurry; he moved too quickly and lost his balance.

Kevin fell onto Josh, who toppled onto Hal, who crashed into Bertram, and the foursome plunged down the rocky cliff, rolling over sharp rocks and over each other until they smashed against a hard plateau fifty feet below.

At ten a.m., Bertram came into camp with a long scrape on his arm and skinned knees. He was followed by Hal, who was limping, and Josh, who had a cut on his face and scratched-up hands, and Kevin, who, having landed on Bertram, was completely unharmed.

For the entire trip back, Kevin had been all smiles. He had seen the top of the Watch, survived the climb, and acquired a souvenir to boot—and Bertram, who was too tired to beat him up at this point, would not get his hands on these glasses.

There was an uncanny, unpleasant sense that their experience on the mountain had somehow linked the four of them together like prisoners in a chain gang, but no one talked about it. No one talked much at all on the way back.

The boys marched into camp, looking like the sole survivors of a major plane crash, and they made their way to their tents. No one had noticed their disappearance, and no one noticed their return—what with so many kids running this way and that, throwing up Kirkpatrick's Chili-Eggs Scrambled with Garlic Over an Open Fire.

They wearily went to their tents to get a few minutes of sleep before they were dragged out for the day's festivities.