Beyond the Station Lies the Sea by Jutta Richter Page A

thinks Cosmos, tugging at his red baseball cap. What on earth am I doing here? I don’t belong here. I’ve never belonged here.
    He thinks of old Sadie and the forbidden park, and of the fact that he never conquered those dogs at all. It was all just a story, a story for Niner. Hypnosis, my foot. It didn’t go down that way at all. They would have mauled him to death that time, the dogs from Fisher and Frost. If the old gardener hadn’t been there, Cosmos would have been done long ago. Truth is, the old gardener threw himself between Cosmos and the dogs and yelled: “Run, boy, run for your life!” And Cosmos ran like a deer and pulled himself up over the wrought-iron gate, only to fall down over the other side, thank god. That’s what the ugly scar was from. From falling down, not fighting.
    Nah, thinks Cosmos. I’ve never belonged here. This place was always forbidden territory, and dangerous besides. Things like that never change. And when the boy is better, I’ll tell him the story again. I’ll tell him what really happened. I swear, I’ll do it when he’s all better again.
    But now, you gotta buck it up, thinks Cosmos. The little guy needs help.

    He sets the red baseball cap straight, and straightens up himself. Then Cosmos pushes the brass doorbell.
    At first he hears only a soft humming. Then the wrought-iron gate opens by itself as if pushed by a ghostly hand. Very slowly, the right side of the gate swings out, followed by the left side. As if in slow motion. And then Cosmos walks, also as if in slow motion, up the white gravel path toward the villa. And as he walks, the little yellow lanterns that line the path flash on alongside him. Five steps lead up to the front door, which is polished to a blinding sheen and flanked by two stone lions. And as Cosmos climbs the second step, a dog starts barking.
    Oh no! thinks Cosmos. Not that again! From behind the closed door the bark sounds big and dangerous. A foaming-at-the-mouth bark. The dog must be huge.
    Cosmos tenses all his muscles, ready for flight. He plans to jump behind the columns the instant he sees the hellhound.
    â€œQuiet, Brutus!” calls out a woman’s voice inside the house. “No! Get back!”
    Impossible, thinks Cosmos. It can’t be. But it is . . . it’s the voice of the Queen!
    And then the door opens. . . .
    There she is, all in light blue, standing there with the fine string of pearls around her neck. The Queen!

    The Queen of Caracas!
    And next to her stands a tiny white dog with a light-blue ribbon tied around its neck. It wags its tail and jumps up at Cosmos, licking his hand.
    â€œPhooey, Brutus!” the Queen says sternly, smiling at Cosmos.
    â€œThat’s a big name for such a little dog,” says Cosmos, grinning foolishly. His sense of relief is painfully obvious.
    â€œDepends on your point of view,” says the Queen. “Your name’s not much smaller, after all! But come on in.”
    The Queen takes a couple steps forward and looks around.
    â€œWhere’s the little one?” she asks. She’s no longer smiling and her voice is as cold as steel. “You tell me right now, where’s the little one?”
    â€œThat’s why I’m here,” stutters Cosmos. “I gotta . . . I need . . . I need your help!”
    So Joseph was right after all, thinks the Queen. The lad’s not going to make it. It was a mistake to buy that guardian angel. I never should have done it! And now there’s a problem.
    â€œWhat happened?” she demands. “Why didn’t you look after him? You swore to me.”
    â€œYes, but Niner’s sick. He collapsed . . . down by the riverbank. He’s got a fever and he’s gone all weak . . . I can’t
manage it by myself . . . he needs a bed. It’s urgent, and he needs medicine too,” stammers Cosmos.
    The Queen is terrified.
    â€œIs it that bad?” she