The Eyes Of Kid Midas

each galaxy, and there were more galaxies than people on the face of the earth. Just thinking about it could make a person realize how small and insignificant his own problems were.

But not Kevin.

'Are you coming in, or what?' asked Josh. He had already satisfied his interest in the majesty of nature and was now in the small tent they shared, reading a comic book. The tent was gradually filling with mosquitoes and moths that flew in holding patterns around Josh's flashlight. Kevin, who stood just outside the tent, had left the zipper on the mosquito net open.

Kevin couldn't turn away from the mountain because he had the uncanny feeling that it was watching him. A soft wind rasped through the trees, and Kevin imagined if a mountain was a living thing—if it could breathe—this is what it would sound like.

'Put a leash on that imagination,' his mother's voice said in his head, 'before it drags you across the lawn.'

Kevin broke his trance and stepped into the tent.

'Listen to this,' said Josh, flipping a page in his comic book. 'The Steroid Avenger gets sucked into a black hole, travels back forty years in time, and accidentally kills his father.'

'Can't do it,' said Kevin, 'because then he'd never get born.'

'That's the thing,' said Josh. 'Now the only way he can get born is if he becomes his own father.'

'Gross!' said Kevin. 'It means he has to marry his mother.'

Josh shrugged. 'That's what you get for messing with time and space.'

Kevin zipped the mosquito netting closed. Considering the events of the day, Kevin idly wished he could be sucked into a black hole and end up in some other universe entirely. He slipped into his sleeping bag and stared up at the peak of the tent, wondering if the mountain could still see him through the thin blue vinyl.

As Kevin lay there, an idea began to boil in his mind, until he had to open his mouth and let it overflow.

'I'm gonna climb the mountain,' said Kevin, not yet knowing how serious he really was.

'In your dreams,' said Josh, returning to his comic book.

Kevin ought to have left it at that, but the thought nagged at him as much as the pain in his eye and mouth did. As much as the sounds in his head of kids laughing.

'I'm climbing it tonight,' said Kevin, 'and I don't care if I get in trouble. I'll be the one there at dawn—and I'll stand at the top, waving down to everyone. I'll even give Bertram the finger.'

Josh turned his flashlight into Kevin's face, and Kevin squinted. 'You're serious, aren't you?'

'You can come if you want,' said Kevin.

Josh held the flashlight on Kevin's face a moment longer, and when Kevin didn't break out laughing, Josh turned off his light. The tent seemed much smaller in the dark, and their words seemed much more important.

'You think Mr. Kirkpatrick's story was real?' whispered Josh.

'I don't know. But there's only one way to find out; be there at dawn. In the balance of dark and day.'

Josh took forever to think it through.

'Why do you want to do this?' he finally asked.

Kevin shrugged. 'Because it's there,' he said. But that wasn't it. 'Because no one thinks we'd have the guts to do it,' he added. But that was only part of it. The rest was something far bigger. It had to do with the way the mountain stared at him—the way it just wouldn't leave him alone. Its dark face had gravity that was pulling Kevin toward it.

'Because,' said Kevin, 'if there really is magic in this mountain, then I want to be the one to find it.'

 ***

Kevin and Josh waited, fully dressed, in their dark tent, listening to the voices of the other kids as they settled down for the night. Then they listened to the teachers, who sat around complaining about the principal the way the kids complained about their teachers. Finally there were no voices—only the chorus of crickets and the rustling of leaves.

They began the trek sometime around midnight; the very excitement of the climb propelled them through the quarter mile of woods to the great stone face of the Divine Watch.

'We'll have to walk around to the other side,' said Kevin. 'The eastern slope should be a cinch.'

'This is nuts.' Josh sighed. 'Someone oughta reach in through your ears and slap that shrimpoid brain of yours.'

The mountain breathed a chilling wind down the face of the cliff, and Josh looked up. Kevin could see concern building up in Josh's eyes. Josh wasn't the worrying type, but on the rare occasions, when he did find something worth worrying about, he would worry himself silly.

'People die climbing mountains, Kevin,' said Josh. 'Bears bite their heads off, and vultures pick at their bones. I just thought you should know.'

'I'm not turning back.'

Josh zipped the last few teeth of his jacket zipper until he was as warm as he was going to get.

'Are you scared, Kevin?'

'I've never been so scared in my life,' Kevin said with a smile. Kevin Midas never knew it could feel this great, being this scared.

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:

1. Mountains are a heck of a lot larger than they look.
2. Granite is just as hard as you think it is.
3. Just because trees might be growing on a slope, that doesn't mean it ain't steep.
4. Flashlights are useless unless you've got a whole lot of batteries.

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

5. Never, ever climb a mountain at night. 

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