Free Dormia by Jake Halpern

done the only thing he could do. He entrusted the plant to his uncle.
    "Don't worry," Hill had told his nephew. "I'll keep the Dormian bloom on me at all times." Then, to show Alfonso just how serious he was about this promise, he produced the old top hat that they'd been using to cover and hide the plant. Hill had done some handy work on the top hat. He had removed the circular top of the hat and replaced it with a glass panel. "It's like a skylight," explained Hill. "This way I can put the plant inside the hat and the plant will still get plenty of light. I'll just keep the hat—and the plant—on my head at all times!"
    Alfonso had been impressed with Hill's cleverness, but it did little to lift his spirits. It was now almost midnight. In four more hours, Hill and his plant would be gone—perhaps forever. It was a very depressing thought. The only thing to do now was to go to sleep. Yet, as hard as he tried, Alfonso simply couldn't fall asleep. His mind was still racing with images from the day: the crowds at the beach, the rusting hulk of the
Nyetbezkov,
the view from Bilblox's shoulders of the overjoyed
Magrewski longshoremen, and the embarrassingly long hug that his mother had given him.
    At some point, Alfonso's thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise:
Bang! Bang! Bang!
It sounded as if someone were rapping their knuckles on a large slab of wood, perhaps the front door of the warehouse. Alfonso glanced at Hill, Judy, and Pappy, but they were all still fast asleep. The knocking stopped and then a few seconds later began again. Alfonso lay in bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore what he heard. What was going on? Maybe one of the longshoremen had gotten locked out? He was tempted to answer the door, but Dusty had warned him not to go snooping around the warehouse at night because the guards had orders to shoot all intruders on sight. But the knocking persisted. In fact, it grew louder.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
    Finally, Alfonso climbed out of bed, walked out of the bunk-room, and tiptoed over to the massive oak doors that sealed the entrance to the warehouse. The doors were at least fifteen feet high. There was no way Alfonso could open them. There was, however, a small peephole that he could open to get a glimpse of who was standing outside. He was tempted to open the peephole, but instead he simply said, in a very meek voice, "Who's there?"
    "Alms for the poor, please ... alms for the poor," came the reply.
    "I'm sorry," Alfonso replied. "I don't have anything."
    The person on the other side emitted a wheezy, gasping laugh. "Surely there are things to help the poor somewhere in this impressive warehouse."
    "They're not mine and I don't live here," said Alfonso.
    "Where are you from?"
    Alfonso hesitated before answering that he was from Minnesota.
    Another laugh. "I know it well," said the voice. "The trees there grow very tall. Come my young friend, a fellow traveler like you must have something of value, be it coins, food, or perhaps something else..."
    There was something familiar about this person's voice. Who was he? Alfonso looked at the door's peephole, took a deep breath, reached up, and slid it open. Two wide-open eyes, totally white, stared back at him. Alfonso gasped, not only because of their hideous appearance but because he recognized them immediately. He was staring face to face at Kiril. His face was no longer hidden by a hat, and his long, snakelike scar gleamed a pale blue in the moonlight.
    "You followed me here," stammered Alfonso. He felt frozen in place, just as he had in the forest back in World's End.
    "No, my friend," said Kiril. "I was here long before you arrived. It was you who followed me."
    "I don't understand," Alfonso replied.
    "Of course you don't," said Kiril. His voice was kindly, but somehow it gave Alfonso a creepy feeling, as if a bead of ice-cold water were running down his spine. "You are too young to understand," continued Kiril. "When are you going to