Daniel lifted the box of food and the gallon of water suspended beside the upstairs bathroom and maneuvered his way to his bedroom, nudging the door open with his backside. With a thud, he dropped the cardboard box and water container onto the floor. He already knew about the dwindling food supplies, but when he peeled the cardboard box's flaps, the narrow curve line on his face changed to a straight line.

The box was nearly empty. Slowly he plunged his fingers inside the box and snatched the remaining pack of dried mangoes hidden among the variety of canned goods. When he lifted the dried mangoes, buried under them was the hammer he used to fix some things. "Well, I am glad I saw you again," he grabbed it. "You, mighty hammer, will be my weapon to defend myself if ever there's somebody or something outside who wants to kill me," he said as if the hammer had earholes that functioned to listen.

Of course, it never escaped his memory to bring the magnifier, barrette, and cube on his adventure. He sprung across the room and grabbed the three, roving in weightlessness. Daniel's nape itched, thinking of a container to hold his things securely. He surveyed the room, then squinted under the bookshelf, eyeing his school backpack hiding in the shadows. Well, here's what I need, he thought.

The boy dove towards the shelf and yanked the bag. "It's stuck!" he interjected, tugging the bag jammed between the floor and the shelf's foot. Daniel grasped the sling firmly and tried to pull the bag, sweating, infuriated.

"Come on!" he whined as his legs exerted more force on the floor, wrestling to free the bag he needed. He gnawed the inside of his cheek, gathered all his strength, and heaved once more. "Whoa—" his abrupt reaction when he freed the knapsack. He was spinning and spinning, out of control, until his head hit the ceiling. "Ouch!"

Daniel scratched his head, feeling a tiny stinging lump. "I don't know, but why is that everything suddenly turned out gnarly," he muttered, venting a fleeting feeling of resentment.

He surveyed his room. "I'm not abandoning you, room. Please, don't be so selfish. I just want to see what changes, distortions, or whatever is bewildering beyond our gates. Don't be sad, and don't get mad because I promise I will be back before dusk," he went on with his persuasion as if the room understood every word he uttered. He smiled. Then the boy unzipped the backpack and tossed the notepads and crayons aside over the mattress. He deposited his snack, the hammer, and his friends inside the bag while he slid the cube into his pocket. "Listen, Mr. Lens and Lady Mondragon. We are about to wander the street, seeing new scenery and maybe finding a friend... if we are lucky," he announced.

Lady Mondragon pirouetted, displaying his glitzy wings in excitement, "Oh, I can't wait to have a glimpse of the outside world. Our expedition scares me, but I can shake it off for you, my beloved friend Daniel."

"Oh, thank you," he fervently replied.

"Don't forget me, mister," Mr. Lens huffed, "I, too, will always be here, be your lens to see better and help you think clearer," he added, firing a show-off of his rhyming skills.

"Undoubtedly," the boy gleamed.

"Hey! I can rhyme too," the hair barrette stole the magnifier's moment, "Daniel, I will be by your side at all times, even though I am scared sometimes. But my humor is the only way to process tough times," he finished with an arched brow and folded arms, pouting her lips.

"Bravo!" Daniel and Mr. Lens gave her a round of applause.

Mr. Lens looked at her, eye to eye. "Beauty and brains, that's what you are, mademoiselle."

Lady Mondragon giggled, glowing with pride and flashing her crystal-embedded wings inside the cheerless interior of the knapsack.

Mr. Lens glanced back, irritated with the lady's squeaky giggle and silly wriggle. "I want to retract my words," he made a quick dart to the left, leaning against the shady corner of the bag's interior, "Nettlesome and unhandsome, the best of the ten thousand adjectives in the English language that exclusively fits to define you."

Lady Mondragon stood still. The air within the dirty canvas knapsack grew stale, a sign that something unpleasant would come about. "What did you say?" her cheerful temperament spun inverted, "Mr. Lens, the all-knowing," she enunciated, her voice shaking in rage, "I am nettlesome—and—unhandsome? Well, you are numb—and—dumb!" she scowled.

Daniel intervened to reconcile them but employed a harsh approach. "Why is that in the middle of our chatter, whenever I summon both of you, the two of you are bad-mouthing one another? I don't know, but I think it is better if I will not bring you with me..." he stretched a finger and pointed it to their faces, "in my little tour outside, beyond the fence. Besides, my half-unscrambled Rubik's cube is here inside my pocket," he pulled it out and went on. "Cube is a well-behaved friend sitting still in my palm," he frankly said, kissing and nuzzling the cube, a convincing act to punish them as well as in some way to tease them.

The two stood in silence, looking shamefaced. They looked at each other and apologized.

"Please, accept my apology. Cross my heart. I promise to behave. Just bring me with you," Lady Mondragon ruefully said, opening and closing her shiny metallic eyes several times, convincing him.

Mr. Lens seemed repentant because the shimmer on his convex lens turned cloudy. Yet his observant glassy eye had never run out of anything to notice. His circular face glinted when he saw the cube lying on Daniel's soft palms, a soft cushion to rest. "A hilarious thing is... Cube doesn't talk or move," he remarked. "Furthermore, Cube is useless. Cube is just a toy," he gave out his unknown enviousness against the three-by-three cube, "What is Cube's deal?"

Lady Mondragon urged him to be quiet. "Sorry, he didn't mean it... um... Cube? Daniel, please, you are our friend, and we are your friends. Let us join you. Mr. Lens can help you see a friend from a distance, and I can help you make that newfound acquaintance like you. I will do the charming," she imparted a nugget of explanation.

Mr. Lens murmured inaudibly.

"Shush," she placed her hand over his mouth.

Daniel scratched his nape. "Stop convincing me. All right, I'll bring the two of you. Here, take care of Cube," he tossed the toy inside the bag and winked an eye.

"Of course, and thank you!" They gleefully interjected in unison.

"Daniel, you need to bring water. I found this empty water tumbler inside the laptop sleeve," Mr. Lens boosted the plastic tumbler out of the bag.

Brushing against the sole of his sneakers, the gallon of water wobbled like a drunkard. The boy dove and slithered an arm around it, clutching it steady. With his thumb, he flicked the lid of the tumbler and then twisted open the cap of the transparent water container. A sphere of water escaped from the container's mouth, and he carefully captured it, filling the tumbler. His right hand put the lid of the water tumbler back securely. And his left hand hurriedly screwed the cap on the container's opening. The trio sighed with relief when Daniel secured both vessels in a jiffy. If he didn't make it right and quick, they would be out of potable water. "Sparkling water," he articulated, "Checked!"

He fixed the goggles snugly against his face and shut the door behind him. He slid along the walls of the lengthy corridor but halted by the main bedroom, pressing a gloved hand against the door. With his constricting vocal cords and hopeless irises, he could hardly talk. He never minded telling his mother that he'd go outside. He closed his eyes and carried on with his plan despite the absence of her permission. Daniel shook his head, fixed his eyes ahead, and breathed in. I smell excitement and curiosity about everything best yet to come, he thought, and he breathed out. "Time to go to make stories," he reminded himself.

"Daniel!" someone yelled, "Daniel!" The yelling of his name grew louder, and it seemed two individuals were shouting.

The boy detected where the noise came from. "I knew it," he unzipped his bag, "Do I have to say for the second time that the two of you must follow my one—and—only rule. And what is that?" he queried.

Lady Mondragon raised her hand, "Behave."

"Correct—"

"But it's suffocating here inside," she added.

"She'll pass out in a matter of minutes," Mr. Lens seconded.

The kid messed his tousled hair more, "Just tell me that you are itching to have a better view of the outdoors. Am I correct?" he rolled his eyeballs.

The two smiled.

"Okay," he extracted the two out of the bag. "Lady Mondragon hung on to my shoulder," he clipped the hair barrette on the epaulet, "And Mr. Lens, be still inside this leathery pocket," he slid the magnifying tool inside the jacket's coin flap.

"Woo-hoo, let's go!" Lady Mondragon interjected high-spiritedly, flapping her flamboyant wings insanely as it seemed.

Daniel and Mr. Lens shared a look and chortled.

The trio moved smoothly over the hot asphalt, clawing the concrete below and pushing them forward. There was only silence eerily humming brought by the warm ghostly breeze that even the dirt lazing upon the road was blown away scared. Strangely, the talkative Lady Mondragon didn't utter a word as she saw the sights of the town for the first time. It could be that she was overwhelmed with the poignant ruins of townhouses gilded with the vibrant ginger sunlight. Or maybe she was sensing fear after seeing shadows hiding under the rubble—a practical lair for the Umbrae. Mr. Lens saw something, a touch of a warm glow of light—of life—of humans perhaps. His lens magnified a lit window, then charmed the boy to explore the house. They stood for a minute under a dead tree along the sidewalk, exchanging thoughts about precautions before they proceeded with their exploration. Lady Mondragon trembled, recalling the poor kid's birthday, ruined by drifters that had brought havoc inside their home.

Under the handkerchief that he tied around his head, covering his nose and mouth, Daniel clenched his teeth and toughened up. He gave himself a push and thudded against a wooden gate. The gate was not bolted; thus, he forged ahead across the withered lawn.

Mr. Lens convinced him that he might find someone, another human friend about his age, a playmate he could share his interests with. The boy peered through the windowpane. He saw three kids—a girl and two boys. He thought he, his mother, and Abraham were the only town survivors for a long time. He smiled and caught his attention by the little girl that had snuggled down on the sofa and proceeded to sleep. The two boys were holding neon yellow swords, illuminating the room. They exhibited swordplay while floating in weightlessness, a fight scene of a space opera.

He hit the windowpane three times with his knuckles and got the attention of the two saber fencers. The boys lurched toward the window, shunted aside the blind curtains, and knocked three times in reply. The boys smiled. Suddenly, an angry-looking man materialized behind the two lads, possibly their father. The man, marked by a typical brief bad temper, grabbed their arms and gave them a short sermon. Afterward, the man gave Daniel a stern look and then shut the blind curtains, a signal that he should leave their premises this instant. He pivoted on his heels with a downcast face. He didn't blame the parent who had displayed rough treatment in front of his face. It was just a natural reaction of a protective father because he didn't know whom he could and could not trust around a world full of fake people.

Trust no one—was the only rule to survive.

Daniel shook the gloomy clouds parked on his forehead and drifted away, gliding smoothly like a ghost over the sidewalk. Maybe they were too victimized by the looting drifters, and I definitely looked like them, he thought while floating the long straight path in an absentminded way. He shifted his eyes to the left and saw several people peering through each window of each house he passed.

Every single person, young and old, stared at him goggle-eyed, pressing the windowpane with their sweaty palms just to look at the tough boy drifting outside. In his viewpoint, the cozy homes of these fragile people were like a prison, and he was a free man, savoring his meaningful existence and freedom outdoors. In secret, he struck off a wicked smile under his mask. I thought that I had stopped loving each day because, at all times, I wake and then live inside a nightmare, he thought.

Located at the other end of the street was a worn-out gate of a crumbling mansion. The erected, impressive towering mansion overlooking their humble home in the opposite direction staggered him. He jarringly knocked his skull, trying to fix the gears inside but he failed. He didn't recollect the mansion's grandiosity even before the moon's collapse or as their school bus drove this way. "Feeling amnesiac?" the boy said as if speaking to himself.

The sun's rays penetrated the glass walls, lighting up the hollow interior, revealing that the mansion was half roofless. Clinging at the edge of the roof was a glinting giant crystal chandelier hanging upside-down, pointing to the skies.

A cacophonous noise and confusion were rumbling within. Something numerous inside was rattled, itching to escape the dazzling illumination. "Look, birds!" he pointed his finger to the hundred-winged animals, panicking to run through the beautiful morning light.

"No!" Mr. Lens disagreed, "They are fruit bats."

"Oh!"

The fruit bats spotted a lovely dwelling place to snooze, changed their direction to the left, and disappeared quickly from the sun's invading rays.

Lady Mondragon got an idea and whispered it to his ear. "Let's follow the bats. Let's follow where they headed because my antennae detected something beyond belief," she rubbed her hands together.

The boy nodded and clawed the pavement pushing them to the left, sliding along to another sidewalk. He grabbed Mr. Lens from the coin flap and magnified a piece of burnt metal lying on the road. They followed the charred metal scraps trail, stopped at the other end of the street, and swerved right. Their eyes were glued to the horrifying scene before them. An airplane had crashed and leveled a block of townhouses. They didn't linger, leaning against a dusty milestone to stare at the unbelievable spectacle.

Out of curiosity and boredom, they went into the wreckage and continued farther inside. His heartbeat began to echo, becoming louder, suppressing his hearing. Halfway through the passenger aircraft, Daniel pushed a curtain aside, exposing the snoozing fruit bats. Gently they wedged their way out, exiting through the missing cockpit.

"That was cool," he heartily said. And then, a great view of natural features greeted them—a dense defoliated forest of birch. The trees cast sharp, tapering shadows upon the sandy soil. It looked like an outlandish landscape, a grand grotesque deception messing up his mind and playing with his naked eyes. Daniel took a firm clutch on the barky trunk of a slender tree and then pulled himself forward. Birch after birch, they wedged their trail out of the woodland. Then, the sun dazed the boy for a moment, causing him to become disoriented. He lifted his chin forward. His corneas glistened when he set his sight on the majestic structure clinging at the edge of the cliff—a very long bridge connecting to a floating landmass.

About three thousand meters away, the floating landmass was like a virgin island with green mountain ranges and waterfalls cascading never-ending globules of water. It was the most breathtaking place—imaginable. He searched his bag for the hammer as he drew nearer to the flaking suspension bridge at a sedate pace. A draft of nostalgia swept over him while looking at the creeping plants sprawled along with the corroding anchorages, pylons, and cables. The single-span bridge was embellished with patches of tiny, gorgeous flowers, reminding him of their lively garden before. He struck the steel with his hammer. A loud metallic ringing traveled throughout the solid structure, making the songbirds fly away. He narrowed his eyes, looking afar, and noticed that the bridge was ripped in half. It seemed to be undamaged at first glance because the vines did a splendid job linking the broken bridge together.

In the middle of it was a figure, shrouded in white, standing ridiculously close to the edge of the broken bridge. It made Daniel, Mr. Lens, and Lady Mondragon nervous. He hailed the mysterious figure. "Hello?"

"Hello," it answered back, but Daniel thought that maybe what he heard was just his echo. "Hello?" he asked again.

The white figure gracefully pivoted clockwise, not fearing the dizzy heights. Then, it put up a parasol and whirled it behind, like a propeller, pushing itself steadily in the direction of the bemused boy. As the figure drew closer, Daniel looked at the mysterious white figure floating like a ghost. He grabbed up the hammer for the looming menace. But the white figure was just a girl, older than him, in an all-white get-up—white doll shoes, white knee-high socks, white feathery poof dress, white elbow-length gloves, a huge white floppy hat, and of course, white parasol.

"Hey," the girl bit her lip, "I know what you were thinking. You thought I was a ghost. Am I right?" she said as he rested the parasol over her shoulder.

Daniel said nothing.

The girl beamed at him while whirling the pretty parasol leisurely with her playful fingers. "Did you lose your tongue?" she scratched her temple, "Daniel?"

"What the—" he croaked, "What did you say? How come you knew my name?"

The girl fluttered her eyelashes, "A lucky guess, I think?"

"That sounds..." his eyebrows furrowed, but he responded quickly, "...not a good explanation. I will not buy it?" He folded his arms.

"Yeah," she uttered, her answer as slow as a slimy snail, "It's because..."

"Because?"

The girl spotted a threadwork on one of his shoulder straps. "Look!" she pointed her forefinger at his right shoulder, "That is your name, beautifully embroidered on your strap."

Daniel looked at the right shoulder strap. He seemed taken aback.

"Look. It says, Daniel. It's your name, right?"

"That's not there just a few seconds ago!" he was blown away.

"Obviously, it is your school bag. Many put their names on it to personalize it."

Daniel just nodded.

"Let me guess... you were skipping classes, am I right? That's why you couldn't remember anything about school. Or..." she gave him a dirty look, "you stopped attending school, maybe, for over a year now?"

"How did you know that?" he swallowed a lump of saliva. "Are you psychic?"

"No."

"What makes you think of that?"

"Well, that's easy. I, too, have never gone to school. I guess many did?"

He just nodded. "Oh—"

"Amongst other things," she tilted her floppy hat and struck a side-view pose, "I am Lucy."

The boy extended an arm out. "Again, Daniel's the name."

Lucy grasped his hand. "You have a firm grip!" she said, shaking his hand.

"What are you doing standing at the end of the broken bridge?"

"Me? I am the one that must ask you that. Why are you here? A long way off home?" she paused, "Because this is my home, my place?"

Daniel averted his gaze from her. "To stroll, to breathe some fresh air, to see the world again," he paused, "To seek a friend."

The stitches of words melt Lucy's heart. "I can be part of your team until the end of the world."

"Team? Part of the team?" he lifted his head, "You know what, Lucy? You do have an extraordinary psychic ability."

"Because toys are friends," she winked at the shiny hair barrette clipped on the jacket's epaulet. "What's her name?" she queried.

"Lady Mondragon," he grabbed the magnifying glass and showed it to her, "And this is Mr. Lens."

"Hey there, wise guy," she caressed the magnifier's convex lens, "And hello, beautiful lady," she blinked an eye.

Daniel giggled. "I am certain both of them were really happy, especially meeting a newfound friend in unexpected places."

"You have a strange taste for picking toys and friends, but I like it."

The boy looked up at the sky, and Lucy did the same. "I delivered a friend into the heavens a couple of days ago. He's a mouse, and I called him Potti."

Lucy shut her eyes as if she was feeling Potti's presence. "He's up there, sleeping and dreaming," she breathed in, "and happy."

Daniel smiled and looked at her. "Do you really think so?"

She looked at Daniel directly and told him she was sure of her feelings.

The boy lent his toys to the girl.

The barrette and magnifier were floating over her palms, and she whispered, "Be always there for Daniel. Stick together and trade your life to protect him." She pitched the toys back to Daniel.

A growling noise from the boy's gut made his tummy jiggle. He steadied it with his hand and felt it was empty.

The girl cracked a smile, "Guess who's hungry?"

Daniel searched his bag for the dried mangoes and the water tumbler. "Do you want some?"

She nodded and munched the chewy yellow flesh of the tropical fruit. "Sweet yet sour," she sighed as if a tasty luxury flamed up onto her taste buds.

"Charity makes you richer," he articulated, flicking the lid of the water tumbler, letting a few of its contents break away from the vessel. Lucy pushed her lips out and blew the levitating three small globules of crystal water. The globoids of water were tearing the air asunder, trekking a path to the boy's parched mouth. A blob of water kissed his chapped lips, then he sucked it in and did the same to others, quenching his thirst. He smiled.

Lucy whirled his parasol, pushing her to the fringe of the cliff. She fixed her eyes on the horizon, shifted her irises upon the valley below, and said, "Here and there, there is entropy." Then she angled her chin, pointing at the floating island, "But beyond the bridge, there is negentropy, a utopia waiting for the worthy people to enter."

Daniel carefully drifted into taking a gander at what she saw. He dawdled at her side, hovering just above the ridge. "I want to go over there... to that beautiful far-off place," he whispered.

"It will take enormous courage to cross the unknown path," she said.

"I will confront the face of danger," he looked the other way, "and fly!"

"Beautiful," she paused, "However, too dangerous. The gap between the bridge is too wide, maybe a kilometer. It's a great divide. You'll fall if you make a mistake, plummeting to the ground or plunging into the skies."

"Don't you want to go live in Wonderland?" asked Daniel.

"No, I'd rather stay here in the living world, feeling and doing everything, both misery and joie de vivre," she tapped her shoe against the dirt.

"Well, you're quite right. The island is a paradise but strange."

The skies dimmed after an enormous wandering landmass obscured the radiance of the afternoon sun. After a few seconds, the floating utopia glitzed up with millions of tiny twinkling yellowish lights. It was an arresting spectacle, an invitation enticing the boy to go to the long bridge. "Fireflies," the two whispered. The wind caught their sweet voices and was heard by the heavens. The sun sneaked a look, and gradually the surroundings were gilded with its golden glow.

Lucy shoved her back and surveyed his eyes thoughtfully, "I believe it's your time to leave, Daniel. You owe someone with a story?"

"Once again, you are right! Abraham, our new friend, is waiting for me."

"Well," Lucy whirled the parasol rapidly, "I'll see you tomorrow, the twenty-seventh day of March."

He shook his head. "I don't think so. My mother and Abraham need me. Maybe, I'll visit you and play with you next week."

"I doubt it. I expect you tomorrow. But go on now," a tear wandered away from her eye, "Cherish the time with him." She smiled.

"Okay," Daniel turned around and lurched towards the woodland.

Lucy kicked the dirt below, boosting her up into the cloudless skies. She vanished in an instant.

The boy turned, looking back. "Lucy—" he muttered. Her name echoed. He forgot to say goodbye, and the girl was nowhere to be found. A white feather detached from her dress was gyrating before his face. He snatched it, waved goodbye like an idiot, and continued tracing his way back.

I have lots to tell tonight, he thought.