The Garden of Darkness (30 page)

His mother had been wrong. There was nothing the matter with him.

They found the first Cured in the sparse trees, and he went down without a fight. One minute he was alive, the next, the Master had killed him. The Master itched to open his bag and take out his supplies and take off the creature’s head.

But not, he finally thought, in front of the children.

They went deeper into the marsh. It was Dante who brought the second Cured to bay. By the time the Master caught up to them, this Cured had his back to a tree, and Dante faced it with his long knife pointed at the creature’s throat. Doug and Charlie were nowhere to be seen, but the Master could hear sounds in the underbrush further on.

“Go ahead,” said the Master.

Dante breathed heavily. The Cured was cringing, pale as a corpse; mucus came from its mouth and trailed into the scraggle of hair on its face. It was pathetic. The Master saw Dante hesitate. He started to lower the knife, and then he looked the Master full in the face.

“What if it has a soul?” he asked.

The Master didn’t have time to answer because, at that moment, Doug and Charlie arrived. In a moment, the Cured was on the ground holding its hands in front of its face—but what Charlie lacked in grammar, he certainly made up for in enthusiasm. Doug and Dante did nothing; the coup de grace belonged to Charlie. The Cured died fast. But the Master was worried.

A soul?

It had never in a million years occurred to the Master that someone could entertain the idea of believing in the soul. A
soul
. It was far worse than believing in God; it was destructive; it was a kind of blasphemy. Surely children were taught better these days. Belief in a soul wasn’t—scientific. He would have to watch Dante.

Now there was one Cured to go. A small one. Female. New to the territory. It was the Master who saw its trail, and he rushed ahead of the others even though he was soon out of breath. He didn’t want to give Dante another chance to ask questions. Questions undermined authority, and authority was something he had sought all his life, attained, reveled in. He had been a leader in his field, a recognized pioneer who had, right before SitkaAZ13 rendered such things meaningless, received the MacArthur Fellowship. But this would convey nothing to the majority of the children. He had to earn his authority in other ways now.

He caught up with the small Cured at the top of a rise. It cowered against a stiff thicket of thorny bushes, and there were scrapes and tears on its arms from trying to get through them. Its face was in shadow, and its long hair covered its neck.

But he didn’t have to look for the patch beneath her hair to know immediately that she wasn’t actually a Cured at all. She was a healthy delayed onset child. He wondered about her mental stability—after all, she could have come to the mansion anytime; she must have seen the other children in the courtyard when she came up to the perimeter. He examined her more closely. She appeared to be all bones; a tangle of long hair covered her face. Then she reached out a hand and pushed back her hair to reveal strange wide eyes.

“Eliza,” the Master said. “So here you are.”

She didn’t try to stop him as he leaned forward and gently put his hands over her mouth and nose.

She struggled, but only a little.

By the time the others arrived, she was unrecognizable.

The three they had hunted were dead. Charlie let out a whoop. Doug looked relieved.

Dante turned away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SNOW

T
HEY TOOK THE
turnoff for the reservoir and were at the water’s edge almost immediately. A few ducks swam close to the shore, and a blue heron stood in the shallows. The water stretched beyond them, winking brightly like cut glass.

“I had no idea it would be so big,” said Clare.

“The question is—where are the others?”

As they gazed out over the lake, there was a shout, and a small creature seemed to detach itself from a nearby wall.

It was Mirri.

She hugged Clare and gave a howl of victory before bursting into laughter. Then she hugged Jem for a long, long time.

Mirri led them into camp, where Sarai ran to them and clung first to Jem and then to Clare. Ramah stood and gave one of her rare smiles.

For Clare, seeing them all was as if the world had been born anew.

Bird Boy’s greeting was exuberant. He danced around them and then hugged them until he started shedding feathers. Bear rubbed up against him and began the job of licking him all over.

“I thought you two were probably dead,” Abel said, looking on happily.

Bear stayed close to Clare after greeting Bird Boy, and she noticed that the cold light of his yellow eyes had been replaced with a golden warmth.

It was later, as Clare and Jem were resting, and the others were putting together dinner, that Bird Boy approached them; he seemed profoundly uncomfortable.

“I’m supposed to talk to you,” he said.

Clare drew back, fearing something awful had happened in their absence, and that the others hadn’t wanted to break the news right away.

“What is it?” asked Jem.

“I’m supposed to tell you that you two stink.”

“What?” blurted Clare. “After all we’ve been through—”

Bird Boy looked abashed, but Ramah stepped over to them to help him out.

“You’re pretty ripe,” she said. “To be truthful.”

“Sarai used the word ‘stink,’” said Bird Boy. “Abel’s heated some water for you to wash with.”

His tone was so mild that Jem and Clare couldn’t take offence.

“We might have known,” Jem said to Clare. “Sam and Becca must have noticed.”

“If they did,” said Clare, “they were very polite about it.”

“Goats in the rain smell worse,” said Ramah. “But goats are supposed to smell like goats. So it’s not so bad. You two—well.”

“All
right
,” said Jem. “Bring on the water.”

“Ramah also wants to boil your clothes,” said Bird Boy.

Jem and Clare sheepishly went and began the process of re-civilizing themselves. After washing, Clare sat while Bird Boy combed through the mats in her hair.

“Whoo,” he said. “There’s some things here that’ll have to come out.”

Head lice. Jem and Clare both had head lice—and Clare remembered how she had seen nits while brushing Stuffo’s hair. Ramah at least knew a cure for head lice: she soaked both of their heads with kerosene, let it set, and then washed it out. But she couldn’t wash out the smell, and, for a long time, Jem and Clare left a wake of kerosene fumes behind them.

Finally they were ready for dinner. They all sat while Ramah ladled out venison stew, and Bird Boy pulled apart flat bread so that everyone had a hunk.

“Mirri and Sarai have something for you,” said Ramah.

“What is it?” asked Jem.

“This,” said Sarai. She and Mirri took out two wreaths from behind their backs and crowned Jem and Clare.

“Return the conquering heroes,” said Ramah. All of them began stomping their feet and clapping their hands, and Bird Boy made loud whooping noises. Abel cheered. Jem grinned. But Clare couldn’t help it: she burst into tears.

A
T FIRST
C
LARE
felt that she wanted to stay and rest for a long time, but, really, when it came to it, leaving wasn’t that difficult. Ramah had kept everything in readiness for departure, and they were excited about reaching the Master’s.

“We’re so very close to the cure,” Jem said to Clare. “Sometimes I can’t bear it.”

“You’re worried something might happen before we get there.”

“Yes.”

“I’m worried enough about it on my own. Don’t add.”

He didn’t mention it again, but sometimes she caught him glancing at her, and there was anxiety in those muddy green eyes.

Sheba drew the wagon down the middle of the road. Runoff from a thaw had undermined the edges of the tarmac, making it dangerously unstable. Their second day back on the road, the temperature dropped. The grey sky lowered over them; Clare couldn’t remember ever seeing clouds that looked so close to the earth. Soon snow came down in thick beautiful flakes that trapped themselves in her eyelashes and hair.

“We’re going to have a snow day,” said Mirri. But Clare moved closer to Jem.

“I don’t like the way this looks,” she said. “Those clouds are packed with snow.” She was about to suggest setting up camp, when the wind picked up, and the flakes began to fly in their faces and make forward motion difficult.

And then the storm began in earnest.

In another twenty minutes, they were all holding onto the wagon for support.

And ten minutes after that, they were in the middle of a whiteout. Sheba came to a halt. Clare could see nothing except the part of the wagon she was holding. Moving up the wagon to get to Sheba’s head, Clare found herself knocking into Jem.

“We have to keep Sheba going,” he said.

“I’m on it.”

The wind whipped the snow into her face, and her cheeks and nose were freezing. She called out to the others, but her words disappeared into the wind. She felt her way to Sheba’s head and tried to pull her forward, but Sheba had lost momentum, and the wagon wouldn’t move. Finally, Clare smacked Sheba on the rump. Sheba shied away for a moment and then strained to get the cart going. They were moving, but Clare had no idea where; she could only hope that they wouldn’t go off the road or overturn the wagon in a ditch. They crawled across the landscape. Clare moved back along the wagon until she was with Jem again.

“We’re going to have to stop and get them all under the wagon,” she said. “There’s nowhere to go. I can’t see anything.”

“Okay, gather them up.”

At first, being under the wagon was a warm haven. They could see and hear again. Steam rose from their clothes as they huddled together, but soon the chill set in.

“I’m
cold
,” said Mirri.

“We’re going to freeze,” said Abel. “I’ve seen stuff like this on television. Hypothermia sets in and then, after a while, you think you’re warm. And then you die. You can tell when hypothermia’s started, because you start to shiver. I’m shivering now. For example.”

“We’re not going to freeze,” said Ramah with perfect calm.

“I
feel
like I’m freezing,” said Mirri. “Why
won’t
we?”

“Because if this doesn’t let up very soon, we’re going to drag the tarps down here,” said Ramah. “Then we’re going to drag out the sleeping bags and put them on the tarps and the other tarps over the sleeping bags. Then we’re going to take our clothes off and crawl in, two to a bag. And we’re going to release Sheba so she can find shelter.”

“That’s brilliant,” said Jem.

“Do we really have to take our clothes off?” asked Abel.

“Yes,” said Ramah. She looked at Bird Boy. “Including feathers. But don’t forget to drag your clothes in with you, or they’ll freeze.”

The snow did not let up. Jem and Clare and Ramah went out from under the wagon and faced the blizzard. In a moment, Sheba was free. Clare gave her a tap to let her know she could go. As they heaved the tarps and the sleeping bags out of the wagon and to the ground, Sarai pulled them under the wagon.

“I’ll get in with Mirri,” said Clare to Ramah. “You share with Sarai.”

Jem, on the other side of the wagon, was trying to zip two sleeping bags together. Abel and Bird Boy were fumbling at the zipper in an effort to help him.

“My hands are so cold,” Jem said. “But we need room for three. Or someone’s going to freeze.”

“Use my back,” said Clare.

“What?”

“Warm up your hands on my back. Hurry.”

Jem’s hands, Clare thought, well, Jem’s hands were, not surprisingly, like ice. And they were larger than she expected, so that she gasped as he touched her.

“Sorry,” he said.

And then he had turned from her and managed to zip the sleeping bags up. Sarai and Ramah were already in one sleeping bag, and Clare couldn’t help but notice, as they had gotten in, how small and thin Ramah was. Then Mirri was in the other sleeping bag waiting for Clare, and Clare shed her clothes.

The sleeping bag was like a frozen block of fabric, and Mirri was all elbows and knees as she squirmed to get warm. Jem, Abel and Bird Boy were packed together in the double sleeping bag.

“How’re you doing over there?” asked Jem.

“Peachy,” said Clare. She was beginning to warm up. It helped that Bear was lying at the end of the sleeping bag.

“Peachy,” echoed Mirri who, to Clare’s relief, had stopped wriggling.

“Also peachy,” said Sarai.

“I’m warm,” said Ramah.

“I bet this is going to get
really
boring,” said Mirri. Then she added,

“You have bigger boobs than I thought, Clare.”

Jem laughed.

The storm went on for hours. Snow drifted around the wagon’s wheels.

And then, as abruptly as it had started, the storm let up.

Clare felt as if she were in an ice cave. Not just icicles, but thin sheets of ice extended from the wagon to the ground. Beyond the sheets of ice were mounds of snow, so that sound was curiously muffled.