Wayfarer's End Page 2

  Her large eyes remained fixed on him until he squirmed uncomfortably in his damp clothes. “You sound an awful lot like your parent’s books when you speak like that, Phineas. Is that what you believe, or is that what they told you to believe? Have the Nzumbe ever been unkind to you?”

  He stared at the ground, jaw set in a sullen line. He refused to listen to her defend those dirty, misshapen creatures.

  When he didn’t say anything more, she went on. “I’m taking Ramsay home now, Phin. He doesn’t need to be mixed up in this. You, on the other hand, are free to choose. You can follow me down the mountain tonight or you can stay here and think about where you want to go next.”

  She dropped off the tree trunk like a cat and took a step toward him.

  Phin flinched, poking his knife toward her. “Stay there,” he said shakily. “Don’t come any closer.”

  She stopped, poised and waiting, watching him with those fathomless eyes.

  Slipping the headlamp back into place, Phin reached under the rain sheet and unlatched the duffle bag from behind Ramsay’s saddle. He frowned when his lamp lit up a large hairless patch where the pack rubbed away the fur on the horse’s back. The spot was raw and bloody.

  I’m sorry, Ramsay. He laid a hand over the rubbed area, wincing when the horse flinched away from his touch. Phin’s stomach heaved; he’d never hurt an animal in his life and he’d almost killed this one. He wiped his damp eyes with the back of one hand before Louisa saw. I shouldn’t have brought you with me. But it will be all right now. You’re going home.

  Home, he thought longingly. If he gave up, maybe he could go back with Louisa and somehow everyone would forgive him. They’d make a fuss over him, cook him good things to eat. They’d tell him how silly he’d been to run away.

  His shoulders sagged when he glanced again at the wound on Ramsay’s back. Nobody would welcome him back after he’d hurt their beloved horse. They’d toss him out into the snow and let him starve.

  Just like you let Ramsay starve, whispered a voice in his head.

  Louisa stood quietly, watching him with patient eyes.

  “You could come with me, Phin,” she said softly.

  He stiffened and pushed himself upright. Was that pity in her eyes? He must look like a pathetic failure drenched in rain and half-starved. Well, he wasn’t having anyone’s pity. He’d show her better.

  “Stay right there,” he warned. “You can take him as soon as I’m gone. Tell Cara that I’m sorry for everything.”

  Patting the horse one last time, he tied Ramsay’s reins around a low-hanging branch, and backed into the woods, taking the light with him.

  He stumbled, staggering through the wet, prickly undergrowth until he reached the logging road again. Without looking back, he ran.

  Phin was halfway up the mountain when his world fell apart.

  Chapter Two

  A Cold Wind

  I woke in icy darkness, rising from sleep like a swimmer coming up for air. I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping, fumbling for my quilt where it slid sideways to the floor. I pulled the blanket tight around my shoulders and stuck my nose into the warm fabric, trying to understand why I was awake. I was freezing. A sharp wind whipped through my open windows, grabbing my clothes and hair with greedy fingers.

  Open windows, I thought blearily. What’s going on?

  I stumbled out of bed and ran to the closest window, fumbling the cold latch with clumsy fingers. It resisted stubbornly before abruptly falling shut with a bang. As if in sympathy, all the other windows crashed down one after the other. I yelped. What the heck was happening?

  “Hello, Cara,” a soft voice said from right behind me.

  I yelped, whirling around with fists balled, ready to strike.

  “Oh,” I squeaked, dropping my hands to my side. “It’s you. I thought I was awake.”

  The little girl stood at the end of my bed, her feet bare against my icy floorboards. She didn’t look cold at all. She wore a beige summer dress and her dark hair back in a pony-tail. Her toenails were painted a vibrant shade of pink. She watched me solemnly, saying nothing.

  My whole body shivered. I pushed past her, jumped back into bed, and tucked my feet underneath me. I pulled the covers tightly around my shoulders.

  “Okay,” I said through chattering teeth. “It’s nice to see you. But why are you here in the middle of night freezing me to death?”

  She shrugged and cracked a half-smile. “I had to get your attention somehow.”

  “Great job; mission accomplished. Why are you here? I thought you’d disappeared for good once my memories came back.”

  “I did,” she said casually. “But I’ll probably pop up now and then when you need me. It’s you who created me, after all.”

  “Do I need you now,” I asked cautiously.

  “I’m here, aren’t I? It’s your dream. Perhaps it’s because you’ve been hiding in your room for a week, sulking. Is there anything bothering you?”

  I turned to the window, glaring out into the darkness. “Let’s see, what on earth would be bothering me? There’s Henry—he’s in the hospital and will probably die, and nobody will even let me see him to say goodbye. Phineas stole my horse and disappeared off the face of the earth. I was kidnapped and saw a man killed right in front of me. And there is Leo, who may or may not still be trying to steal me to experiment on. Nope, nothing stressful at all.”

  She laughed and tilted her head at me. “What would Henry say about your overuse of sarcasm, Cara?”

  “He’d say it’s an excellent coping mechanism for when life spins out of control and I should use it more often,” I lied. “Now, seriously, why are you here?”

  “Just your subconscious sending you a friendly warning. You should probably wake up now.”

  “Why,” I asked, biting my lip. “Is something going to happen?”

  “Old bones always rise to the top, Cara.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. What did that mean? Before I asked, she spun around and trotted toward the door. “You should make sure the buried stay buried, that’s all. Now. Wake. Up.”

  From all sides there came a low, drawn out thundering, like a hundred horses galloping over hard ground. The room heaved and, with a terrible groaning roar, a seam split my bedroom wall right up the center.

  I screamed, burying myself under the blanket, closing my eyes tight, not knowing whether to run or stay as still as possible.

  The rumbling stopped and only the light patter of plaster raining from the ceiling broke the silence. I cracked an eye open and sat up, hardly able to believe my eyes. There was a gaping hole in my bedroom wall large enough to drive a car through. But instead of the jagged innards of the house or the night outside, there was just . . . nothing. No, not nothing; an impossibly smooth, round tunnel stretching off in the distance as far as I could see. The sides were carved from grey stone. A dimly lit lightbulb dangled from a chain a few feet away. I rubbed my eyes just to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating and swung my feet slowly to the floor.

  This is impossible, I told myself. This can’t be happening. That’s a wall to the outside. There can’t really be a tunnel there. Can there?

  I edged closer to peer inside. The faint yellow glow from the bulb stretched maybe ten feet inward. Beyond, there was another lightbulb and yet another further ahead. At the edge of the nearest ring of light, jumbled, jagged white sticks lay piled on the ground. I backed away with a startled hiss, bumping the tunnel wall behind me. They weren’t sticks. They were bones, a pile of them just tossed in a broken heap.

  Calm down, I told myself. They could be animal bones. They could be from anything. It’s not like there’s a skull here or anything.

  I put my hand against the cool, damp rock. The lightbulbs overhead hummed and nearby water trickled down the rock, sounding like faraway laughter.

  Strange, it sounds so much like voices, I thought, inching forward down the tunnel. I can almost make out the words.

 
The burbling water faded and I was positive there was definitely somebody, or a group of somebodies up ahead.

  “Hello,” I called tentatively. There was no answer; the voices didn’t falter. In fact, they got louder.

  “We can’t stay down here forever,” a gravelly voice said. “Even if we don’t need much food, I would like to see the sun once in a while and get some air. After all, we’re not bats or moles. We’re not meant to live underground.”

  “But what if he comes back and we’re gone,” a woman pleaded. “He’ll hunt us down and kill us.”

  Sharp laughter sounded all around.

  “Well, you know what I mean. Whatever he’d do, it wouldn’t be pleasant.”

  “And what about our families,” someone else asked. “They’re going to think we’ve just disappeared. I couldn’t stand my wife thinking I’d abandoned her.”

  “No, me neither,” the first voice agreed. “There has to be a way out.”

  There was a long silence. “But, without him, we don’t have any direction. We don’t even know who the enemy is. He hasn’t left us any instructions at all. I don’t want to start killing random people.”

  “There won’t be any killing,” a voice said sharply. “I think we’ve all seen enough death—”

  “Well, I don’t mind some killing, as long as it’s for a good cause.”

  I held my breath, inching steadily closer, hoping to catch sight of them. They must be Nzumbe, I thought excitedly. They must be talking about Leo. He’s stuffed them down in these tunnels and abandoned them.

  I put my hand against the rock. The smooth stone walls gave way to rougher, crumbling rock. Pebbles and larger stones littered the ground. Here and there lay discarded pieces of rusted metal.

  “I say we break out now.” The gravelly voice was tight with anger. “We’re wasting time down here.”

  I paused, chewing the inside of my cheek. They don’t sound very nice, I thought. Not like the other Nzumbe I know. Maybe I should go get Louisa.

  Edging away, I didn’t see the small metal box at my feet—not until I’d kicked it. It shot across the rough ground, the clatter echoing down the tunnel.

  No! I scrambled backward, banging my elbow when I fell.

  They surrounded me in an instant, before I had time to scream. Rough hands grabbed me, pawing my arms and legs. Mottled, blue faces stared down with a mixture of fear and suspicion. These Nzumbe weren’t like Henry and Petra; they looked mean and wild.

  “Let me go,” I said, kicking. “I can help you if you’ll let me go. I know what you are.”

  “Monsters.” A big man with a nasty cut running down his cheek stared at me grimly. “Straight from the center of the earth.”

  “No,” I said breathlessly, prying the fingers gripping my arm. “No, you’re not. It’s not your fault. I can help.”

  “What is she saying,” a woman demanded. “Did she say she can help us? Maybe—”

  “No,” the scarred man said. “Just toss her in the pit. She’ll only bring us trouble.”

  As one, they turned to stare a rough, car-sized hole cut into the side of the tunnel. I didn’t notice it when I’d passed by before. A cold, foul wind came from below.

  “Sorry, girl,” scar-face said almost apologetically. “This is where the dead go to stay buried.”

  No! I thrashed and kicked wildly, but there were too many of them and they were too strong. Their iron hands gripped me tightly, shoving me toward the open mouth so hard, I stumbled and hit my cheek against the wall. As soon as I cried out, the rumbling, roaring sound started again and the world shook on its foundations. The overhead lightbulbs went out one by one, popping with little bursts of flame.

  I jerked back and this time they let me go. I couldn’t see them in the inky darkness, but heard them shouting. Rocks fell, forcing me sideways, closer to the pit. With a heave, the wall beside me gave way. Rock groaned as it tore apart. I fell into blackness and all I could do was scream.

  * * * * *

  I woke gasping for air. It was dark and the world shook, but I had enough sense to fumble with the lamp beside my bed. The lamp jumped and skipped on my nightstand, sending weird shadows dancing around the room. I looked around, panting wildly, ready to fight. I was sure I was really awake this time, but the shaking from my dream didn’t stop. The water glass beside the lamp slid back and forth, sloshing water over my journal. The pictures on the wall bounced on their hooks until one fell with a crash, glass shattering on the floor. The bed shook underneath me. I didn’t know whether to stay put or make a run for it. Earthquake.

  As quickly as it started, everything stopped and the night was eerily still, like the entire planet held its breath. I sat rigidly in my bed, waiting to see if there was more. From the barn came Arctic’s frightened neigh. I clutched my covers to my chin, not sure what to do.

  Footsteps thudded down the hall. The door burst open; Caleb and Rosie ran in and piled onto my bed in a heap. Rosie’s black and white fur stood on end. Caleb was white-faced. He wrapped his arms around me in a tight, shivering bear hug.

  “It’s okay, kiddo,” I whispered, wrapping the covers around all three of us so we were in a warm and safe cocoon. “Don’t worry, we’re all okay.”

  Rosie whined and burrowed under the blanket until she was completely buried, pressing her furry body against my legs.

  “There was a bad man in my room” Caleb hiccuped. “He said he was going to get me and then he grabbed the wall and started shaking the house so hard I fell out of bed.”

  “Oh, Caleb,” I soothed, “it was just a dream. The earthquake was real but it’s over now… I hope.”

  “You kids okay in there?” Aunt Sandra stood in the doorway wearing a pale pink nightgown, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling. “That’s the biggest earthquake I’ve felt here yet. It must have gone on for almost two minutes. Your Uncle just called from the hospital to see if we’re okay. The power flickered there, but everyone is fine. Henry is fine, Cara. I’m going online to see where it came from and how big it was, but you guys don’t have to worry, that’s probably as bad as it’s going to get. There might be a little aftershock, but the big stuff is over. I’m going to run out to make sure the barn is still standing.”

  Caleb untangled himself from me and wiped his eyes with his hand, sniffing loudly. “Is there a soo-naumie coming, like they talked about in school? Are we all going to drown?”

  Despite knowing better, I glanced nervously out the window into the darkness, half-expecting to see a gigantic wave bearing down on house. There was only the usual sleeting rain pattering against the glass.

  “Of course not, silly. We live way too far from the ocean for a tsunami. You worry too much.” Aunt Sandra smiled. “Come on, Caleb. Let’s head outside to see how Arctic’s doing. We can tell her there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Are you sure it’s over,” Caleb asked doubtfully, staring at my face.

  “I—I think so.” I looked at Aunt Sandra for confirmation. She nodded impatiently, not looking afraid at all. She clearly was not appreciating how earthquakes were scary business.

  “Yep, show’s over. But you can stay here if you like. It’s pretty early to wake up.”

  “No,” Caleb said, tossing aside the covers. “Rosie wants to see Arctic. Are you coming, Cara?”

  I couldn’t answer. My throat was dry and my hands shook where I clutched the covers. I stared, frozen, at the wall to the right of my bed. A dark seam zig-zagged up the drywall, splitting my room in half like the jagged teeth on a zipper—right where the tunnel in my dream had been.

  Chapter Three

  Ramsay Returns

  It was a long time before I moved again. The room was ice cold; my bare feet ached against the wooden floor. Without looking at the horrible fissure in my wall, I found thick, wool socks and threw on a sweatshirt over my pajamas. The rest of the room looked pretty much unharmed. The only other thing damaged was the picture; a painting of a running horse Aunt Sandra gave m
e. I loved it because the horse looked so much like Ramsay.

  I grabbed my garbage can and gingerly picked up the largest pieces of shattered glass with my fingertips and dumped them inside. I left the can there to remind myself to clean the smaller shards and not step on them later. The painting itself wasn’t ripped. Maybe Aunt Sandra could find another frame for it.

  I stood back and cautiously eyed the part of the room I’d been avoiding.

  Just a coincidence, I told myself firmly. There is no way the dream was real. I reached out and ran my fingertips over the ruined drywall. The crack was thin, hardly noticeable until you got up close, but it ran right from floor to ceiling in an undulating, zig-zagging line.

  Why did it split right there, in the same spot I’d dreamt? I couldn’t just stand there and not know for sure. I edged one fingernail under the crack and pulled back until a little drywall came loose and drifted to the floor boards. Another followed it, and another until I’d opened a plum-sized hole.

  Sorry, Aunt Sandra, I thought, with a stab of guilt. I’ll use my allowance to help fix it. I went to my closet and rummaged around until I found the small flashlight I kept in there. Holding my breath, I aimed the light into the hole.

  Wood. Just solid wood framing and pink insulation foam. A normal, everyday house—no tunnel and no Nzumbe. Of course, I didn’t really expect to find anything, but still, I was relieved.

  I headed downstairs to the kitchen, half-expecting the house to shake again any second. I eyed the walls nervously in the dim light, looking for more cracks in the plaster. Apparently, it was only my room. As far as I saw, the rest of the house was untouched.

  My dream danced around my head. How strange, there was a crack in my room right where the dream-tunnel had been. What else was true about what I dreamt? Were there real Nzumbe out there trapped somewhere? I needed to ask Louisa.

  As soon as I turned on the kitchen light, Henry’s fat cat Jasmine appeared from the hall where she’d waited. She sauntered up to me, rubbing her plump, furry sides against my legs. She looked as unworried as Aunt Sandra about the whole world shaking.