فصل 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Children of Cambridge Falls

Emma’s ears were ringing. Her ankle throbbed, and she was drenched, head to toe. All around her, huge jets of water streamed through cracks in the face of the dam. The sound was deafening. She looked but didn’t see the monster. Was it possible the explosion had killed it?

The dam groaned; more boards cracked and splintered.

“Gabriel! You gotta wake up! Gabriel!”

His eyes opened; he wasn’t dead.

Thank you, Emma thought, though it was unclear exactly who she was addressing, thank you thank you thank you.

Gabriel sat up, cradling his injured arm. “How did I get here?”

“You were fighting that monster; only he must’ve been fighting dirty or tricked you ‘cause you fell on that.” She pointed to the catwalk above them. She thought for a moment and added, “But you bounced real hard and landed down here.” If he didn’t remember her pushing him off the catwalk, she saw no need to offer that information.

“The mines …”

“Yeah, one of them exploded! That monster was standing right beside it. We gotta get out a’ here! Come on!”

Limping, they set off down the catwalk. The river was pouring in, filling up the hollow center of the dam. By the time they reached the stairs, water was already splashing about their ankles. Emma knew that once the dam filled with water, the pressure would be too much: the whole thing would simply snap and wash away. Then anyone still on the Countess’s boat would die.

But Dr. Pym had to have rescued Kate and the others by now! What good was him being a wizard if he couldn’t do something as simple as get a bunch of kids off a boat!

She let her annoyance at Dr. Pym distract her from the pain in her ankle. It helped as she climbed the stairs. They were halfway to the door when Gabriel suddenly stopped.

“Gabriel, what’re you doing?! We—”

Then she saw it. The creature was climbing up through the ribs of the dam, jumping from one beam to another. Her heart sank. What did it take to kill that stupid thing?

“Your brother was right. It fears water.”

It took Emma a moment to understand what he meant and recall how, back in Gabriel’s cabin, two days and what felt like a lifetime ago, Michael had suggested the Countess was keeping the monster on the boat because it was afraid of water. And now, as a new crack opened in the front wall and a fresh jet blasted through, Emma watched the creature howl and spring clear of the water’s path.

But still, it continued to climb.

“We gotta hurry!” Emma shouted. “It’s gonna beat us to the door!”

Gabriel nodded and, with his good arm, hoisted Emma onto his shoulder. He took the stairs three at a time. The higher they went, the more the dam swayed and shuddered. Up they raced, amid the cracking and groaning, the thunderous pounding of the water, the sounds of timbers snapping, and as fast as Gabriel climbed, the monster kept pace. Again and again, it tried to move closer, but each time the dam splintered and a new jet of water forced it back.

Emma silently urged Gabriel to go faster.

Finally, they reached the top of the stairs, and Emma could see the door. Gabriel set her down. He was panting, and his clothes were soaked with fresh blood.

“Come on!” Emma cried. “We gotta hurry!”

“I am not going.”

“What’re you talking about? This thing’s gonna fall apart!”

“The creature cannot be allowed to escape. When the dam breaks, it must be inside. That is the only way to kill it.”

“So we’ll lock the door! We won’t let it out!”

Gabriel shook his head. “I must make sure.”

Emma was growing frantic, trembling on the verge of tears. There was another massive crack! The landing they stood on dropped two feet.

“No! You—That’s crazy! I won’t let you!”

Gabriel knelt so their faces were close together. “I must do this. Or every person this creature kills will be my responsibility. Life gives each of us tasks. This is mine.”

“But you … you …” She was crying freely now, but didn’t care. She had to make him see why what he was saying was so stupid, why he had to come with her, but for some reason, all she could manage was, “You can’t.… You can’t.…”

Gabriel placed his hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes.

“I do not know what happened with your parents or why they did what they did. But in all the world, I could have wished for no daughter but you.”

Sobbing, Emma threw herself around Gabriel’s neck. She told him she loved him, she would never let him go, she didn’t care what he said, she loved him.

“And I you. But you must go.” And he pulled her arms from around his neck and pushed her toward the stairs. “Go! Now!”

Shaking, hating herself with every step, Emma obeyed. Reaching the door, she looked back. Gabriel had turned to face the monster. He had no knife, no weapons, and as it sprang toward him, he leapt to meet it, grappling with the creature. Together, they plummeted into darkness.

Moments later, Emma was stumbling along the edge of the gorge, tears streaming down her face, repeating, over and over, “He’s Gabriel, he’ll be okay, he’s Gabriel, he’s Gabriel.…”

When Michael and the children reached the shore, they were met by a group of men and dwarves who’d come through the passage Dr. Pym had created.

“ ‘Ere, pull that boat up!” called a familiar voice. “Look sharp now! Ah, blast ya, I’ll do it meself!”

King Robbie grabbed the stern of the boat and, with half a dozen men and dwarves leaping to help, hauled it onto land. As the men began lifting out the children, Michael finally released the oars. He’d never been so exhausted; pain arced across his back and shoulders, and he could scarcely raise his arms. He started out of the boat and promptly crashed face-first into the gravel shore.

“Come now, boy, you’re all done in!”

It was Wallace. He set Michael on his feet but continued to support him, clearly fearful he might topple over a second time. Robbie and Stephen McClattery’s father hurried up.

“There’re … more kids.”

“How many more, lad?” Robbie demanded. “Quick now.”

“Thirty … at least. And Dr. Pym and Kate. Dr. Pym took care of the Screechers. I don’t know about the Countess.”

More men and dwarves had gathered round.

“We’ve gotta go back for them!”

“Get the boat in the water!”

“Hold now!” Robbie shouted. “We all ‘eard that explosion. And you can ‘ear the dam creakin’ and groanin’ from ‘ere. You won’t get ‘alfway ‘fore she bursts!”

“What’re we to do, then? Let our children die?”

“Course not. But we gotta use our ‘eads! ‘Ow we gonna get there and not get dragged down the gorge when the dam goes? There’s the question, blast it!”

Most of the men and a few of the dwarves began shouting at once, some offering ideas, some cursing the Countess, some saying they didn’t care if they were swept down the gorge, that those were their children on that boat; the arguing went on and on, with Robbie and Stephen McClattery’s father calling again and again for order.

Michael looked at the Countess’s boat, sitting there so still upon the dark lake. The dam gave off another mournful groan, like some great beast in pain.

And then it came to him. He saw how the whole thing would play out and that he was the only one who could save the children. He took off running down the shore.

“Oi! Lad!” Wallace yelled. “Where you going?”

But Michael just kept running.

Outside the Countess’s cabin, there were children screaming. Inside, Dr. Pym would not wake up. No matter how many times Kate shook him and called his name, he just lay there. Finally, throwing one last glance at the unmoving body of the Countess, she placed the book on Dr. Pym’s chest, grabbed him under the arms, and dragged him through the doorway, down a hall, and out onto the deck, apologizing each time she bumped his head. The deck was pandemonium.

Terrified children were running and screaming in all directions. Twice, Kate was knocked to the ground, and the child who’d collided with her got up, screamed, and ran off in the direction he had come. There were torches visible on both sides of the lake, and many of the children were standing on the railings, calling into the darkness for their mothers and fathers.

Kate stared about in confusion. How had the children gotten free? Where were the Countess’s Screechers? Had Dr. Pym done this? Even as she asked the questions, she realized that none of them mattered. The only thing that mattered was how she was going to get all these children off the boat.

“Hey!” Stephen McClattery was coming toward her. “That the wizard?”

The question surprised her. “How did you know—”

“Your brother told me.”

“Michael? He’s here?” She felt her panic rising. She’d assumed he was safe. If he’d come to rescue her and was now in danger himself—

“No, he already took a boatload a’ kids to shore. Said he’s coming back. Better hurry, though. You hear that explosion?”

“Yes.” Kate prayed, guiltily, that Michael would not return.

“Dam’s been groaning and creaking ever since. Got all the kids scared.” He nodded to Dr. Pym. “So, he dead or something?”

“No. He just won’t wake up.”

“What about the witch?”

“She’s in there. Dead, I think.”

The boy’s face broke into a broad grin. “Really? So we’re gonna be okay, huh?”

Kate hesitated. Did she tell him the truth about the explosion? Tell him what all that groaning and creaking really meant? Could she trust him or would it cause even greater panic?

She never got the chance to decide.

Emma had a plan. It boiled down to this: find Dr. Pym and demand he fix everything. With that in mind, she’d run along the top of the gorge in a sort of staggering, hob-legged lunge—her ankle was really hurting her—doing her best to ignore the wailing of the dam and push back thoughts of Gabriel, wounded and weak, fighting the Countess’s monster. In her heart, she knew he was still alive. And if she could just get to Dr. Pym, everything would be fine.

There was only one problem. As she neared the mouth of the gorge, she became aware of a cluster of scared-sounding voices rippling out from the center of the lake. With horror, Emma realized that the children were still on the boat. That meant Kate was still on the boat. Maybe Michael too. And certainly Dr. Pym.

Therefore, she had to be there.

She knew the village would have boats, and so she started over the narrow bridge that spanned the gorge, head down, running full tilt, not looking where she was going.

Suddenly, with a whoof, she was on her back, her head ringing. She scrambled to get to her feet, imagining she’d crashed into a Screecher; then a voice spoke:

“Are you all right? Didn’t see you coming.” A hand helped her up. “I heard the explosion, so I hurried down to take some pictures. ‘Fraid I was looking the other way.”

It was Abraham, and he had a camera hanging from his neck. He stared at her.

“You’re one of them children I helped escape. What’re you doing here?!”

The words spilled out. “Gabriel’s in the dam fighting a monster! The whole thing’s gonna break apart any minute! I gotta get to Dr. Pym! The kids are still on the boat—”

“Slow down, slow down. Who’s Gabriel? Who’s Dr. Pym? What monster?”

“No, listen! Those kids are still on the boat! We gotta—”

“Wait, the children are on the witch’s boat?”

“Yeah! That’s what I been saying! Are you deaf or something?!”

“We gotta get ‘em off! If the dam goes—”

“Duh! That’s what I was doing when you got in my way! That’s why I gotta get to Dr. Pym!”

“Well, I don’t know this Dr. Pym, but we gotta organize rescue boats. We need to get those children to safety!”

Fine, Emma thought, you do that, but I need a boat now! And she started to say that when there was a rending and scraping unlike any that had come before.

Emma turned.

Abraham gasped, “Oh dear Lord.”

The dam was folding outward, split down the middle, and as the dark water rushed through, one entire half dislodged and was carried away. Emma threw herself against the railing, crying out her friend’s name. To Abraham, who hadn’t truly understood what she’d meant about Gabriel or Dr. Pym or the monster in the dam but who knew suffering well enough, it sounded as if the young girl’s heart was breaking.

They were moving. Scarcely a minute had passed since Kate and Stephen McClattery had heard the unmistakable sound of the dam ripping free, and now, with each passing second, the boat was picking up speed.

Kate thought the gorge was like a giant mouth, intent on swallowing the lake and everything in it, including them.

She continued to shake Dr. Pym and call his name, but it was no use. And as she looked at Stephen McClattery running about, yelling at the children to grab hold of whatever they could find, she marveled that she’d come here to prevent this exact thing. How could she have failed so miserably?

Even so, Kate was strangely calm. After all, she had been here before. In her vision, she had stood on the deck of the boat as it hurtled toward the falls. That had felt real. This, by contrast, seemed almost like a dream.

“Hold on!” Stephen McClattery yelled.

Kate looked up to see the jaws of the gorge rushing toward them. She was unprepared for the impact, and it sent her flying, slamming her hard into a wooden chest. The shock jarred her out of her reverie. She saw Dr. Pym’s body sliding toward the edge of the deck, his arm still draped limply over the book. Kate dove at the wizard, pinning him down as the boat spun clockwise. She braced herself as the opposite wall came flying at them.

They were in the gorge. There was no escaping now.

She couldn’t think about Gabriel. Kate and Michael. Kate and Michael. Think about them. They were still alive.

But for how long? From where she and Abraham stood on the bridge, they’d seen the boat crash into the mouth of the gorge, get sucked into the narrow chute, and then be battered from one rocky wall to another, all the time going faster and faster. If that wasn’t bad enough, the other half of the dam had finally broken free, which meant nothing now remained to stop the boat as it hurtled toward the falls. And all she could do was watch. Emma had never felt so helpless, so hopeless.

“Emma!”

Michael ran panting up the bridge. She threw her arms around him, sobbing.

“Michael, you’re alive! I thought you were on the boat!”

Michael was so out of breath he couldn’t speak, and it allowed Emma to say a few more times, “You’re alive! You’re alive!”

“Kate and … Dr. Pym. They’re on the boat. With the kids.”

“I know! What’re we gonna do? Oh, Michael, Gabriel … he’s …” But she found she couldn’t say the words to pronounce her friend dead. Not yet.

“That’s Abraham!” Michael was staring at the man beside her. “That’s good.”

“I know that’s Abraham! So what? Kate’s on the boat! Why doesn’t Dr. Pym do something?! He should be—”

A sickening crunch made them turn. The boat had slammed into the wall of the gorge just fifty yards away, close enough that they could see the panicked children swarming the deck. Another moment and the boat would pass beneath the bridge.

“Make sure he takes the picture!” Michael was climbing onto the railing.

“What? What’re you doing? Michael!”

“Make sure you take the picture!” Michael yelled at Abraham.

“Here now, lad …”

“Michael, get down!”

Standing on the railing of the bridge, Michael glanced once over the edge, then turned and looked at his sister. Something in his manner made Emma pause. She couldn’t have said why it was, but it occurred to her suddenly that Michael was her older brother and how she never thought of him that way.

“I love you,” Michael said, and jumped.

“MICHAEL!”

Emma flung herself against the railing in time to see her brother falling through darkness as the boat appeared below them, huge, spinning, doomed; she saw him land on the deck and roll, and then he was gone, the boat wheeling away toward the mouth of the falls and there was nothing, anywhere, to stop it.

“MICHAEL! MICHAEL!”

She screamed so hard that her voice cracked, and she would’ve kept on screaming, but she heard other cries; dark-clad women from the town, their shawls trailing, their hair loose, were emerging from the trees along the ridge; they ran with torches and lanterns and called to the children on the boat, and there was something so familiar and haunting about the scene that Emma kept staring; then Abraham’s camera flashed—he’d been holding it down by his chest and seemed surprised it had gone off—and Emma understood what Michael had said.

Make sure he takes the picture.…

He’d meant the picture Abraham had given her and Kate that day in his room, the one Abraham had said was the last photo he’d ever taken, the one with the names of the children written on the back. But why had Michael wanted him to take it?

A wailing rose along the ridge, and Emma turned to see the boat spinning about and teetering, backward, on the lip of the falls; for one excruciating moment it hung there, and Emma gripped the railing of the bridge and said her brother’s name once more, almost a whisper, “Michael”; then the bow rose, the stern went down, and the entire boat, and all its passengers, disappeared over the falls.

Michael had landed on a pile of tarps. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, for the boat was spinning faster and faster down the gorge, slamming first into one wall, then the other. All around him, children were clinging to railings, to ropes, to each other, screaming and crying. He glanced back and saw the silhouetted arc of the bridge. He prayed Abraham would take the picture, that Emma had understood. Then he put it out of his mind.

He was running down the side of the boat in a drunken stagger, calling Kate’s name, when someone grabbed his arm. It was Stephen McClattery. He was holding a young child and had an astonished look on his face.

“You came back! Again! How’d you even—”

“Where’s my sister?”

Stephen McClattery pointed to the front of the boat.

Michael shouted, “We need all the kids together!”

“You crazy?! They can’t move!”

“They have to! It’s our only chance!”

“But—”

“Just do it! Bring them to my sister! Go! We don’t have much time!”

For a brief instant, the boys stared at each other; Michael was younger than Stephen McClattery, scrawnier, but there was no question who was now in charge. Stephen McClattery nodded, turned to two boys standing nearby, and began yelling orders. Michael took off running.

When he got to the forward deck, he found two dozen wailing, terrified children and Kate, up against a wall, her arms in a sort of hug around Dr. Pym and the book. Dr. Pym was unconscious.

“Michael? What’re you …”

He knelt beside her. “Kate, look—”

“No! You shouldn’t have come back!” She began crying and hitting him. “Who’s going to take care of Emma? You shouldn’t have come back!” Then she wasn’t hitting him anymore, just leaning against him, sobbing, “You shouldn’t have come back.…”

“No! Look! I brought this!”

He dug into his jacket and pulled out his notebook. Opening it carefully, for the wind was whipping all about them, he showed her the photograph. Kate immediately recognized the dark figures running out of a wood, carrying torches and lanterns. It was the picture Abraham had given her and Emma.

“We can use it! We can put it in the book!”

But Kate was already shaking her head. “What about the others?”

“I got ‘em!” It was Stephen McClattery, and he was dragging half a dozen children with him. “Part of ‘em anyway! They got the rest!”

He waved to the far side of the deck where the two older boys had just appeared, herding a group of children. By Michael’s count, there were now more than thirty panicked children packed into the front of the boat.

“Make them hold hands!” Michael shouted. “Hold hands!”

Stephen McClattery and his lieutenants took up the cry and ran about, pushing kids together, yelling in their ears, but whether the children didn’t understand or were simply too terrified to obey, either way, it was hopeless.

“We need Dr. Pym!” Kate was shaking the old wizard fiercely.

Michael thought for a moment, then told Kate to stop, and he dug into Dr. Pym’s pockets till he found the tobacco. He shoved a wad of it under the wizard’s nose, and almost immediately, Dr. Pym snorted and his eyes blinked open.

“Hmm,” he said groggily. “What’s that?”

“Dr. Pym,” Kate cried, “we’re on the boat! We’re about to go over the falls! We have a photo, but we need the children to hold hands!”

Dr. Pym nodded, appeared to think, then said, “What’s that?” again, as if he’d not understood a single word.

As Kate repeated what she’d said, Michael looked up and saw that they had run out of water. There was nothing but air before them.

“Kate—”

That was as far as he got. Just then they struck a rock with such force that the entire boat spun around so the front was now the back.

And still they were rushing forward.

“It’s too late!” Stephen McClattery shouted. “We’re going over!”

The deck of the boat started to rise, and for the first time, Michael heard the roar of the falls.

“Kate,” Michael said, “I’m sorry, I thought …”

“It’s okay,” she said, and squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. We’re together.”

“Take the photo, Katherine. Be ready.”

It was Dr. Pym. His voice was sharp; it snapped them back.

Kate took the photo from Michael and opened the book; Dr. Pym was whispering something, and Michael suddenly found Stephen McClattery grasping his hand; he in turn grabbed his sister’s arm, and then, as the boat dipped forward and the deck continued to rise, a strange calmness came over the children, and each one reached out and in the darkness found the hand of another child, forming one long chain snaking around the deck, and Dr. Pym was still whispering as the chain grew longer and longer till the last child was joined in, and the deck was so steep now that Michael had to brace himself to keep from sliding, and he looked down and saw past the boat to the nothingness below, and they were falling, all of them, falling, and Dr. Pym shouted:

“Now!”

And the boat plunged forward.

“It’ll be okay,” Emma repeated, for the fourth or fifth or ninth time. “It’ll be okay.”

For a few seconds after the boat had gone over the falls, there had been a terrible, drawn-out silence. Then they heard the crash, far below, and the women on the ridge fell to their knees and wailed. Amid the shrieking, Emma heard other voices, men’s voices, coming along the gorge behind her. But she didn’t turn. Just as she didn’t run to the cliff to look over, or stare at the spot on the falls where the boat had disappeared. She kept her eyes fixed on the woods behind the women. And waited.

Please, she thought, her hands clenched around the railing of the bridge, please …

And then there was a different cry. One that stopped the women on the cliff and made them turn. It was a young girl’s voice. She was calling her mother.

The girl was no more than seven or eight, and as she came running out of the trees, one of the women cried out and ran to meet her, folding the girl in her arms, and then there were more cries, and children streaming out of the woods in twos and threes, and tearful reunions began happening all along the ridge, and Emma felt the tight knot of fear that was binding her dissolve, and she was running down the bridge toward the trees, the pain in her ankle forgotten, knowing they would be there, knowing they would never desert her, running into the waiting arms of her brother and sister.