The Wikkeling (23 page)

Henrietta blew out her candle. “Rose, do you think I can make it?”

“Definitely,” said Rose.

Henrietta put her feet out, and squirmed through the hall, feeling the cool night air on her ankles. Soon, she'd gone as far as she could. She'd have to drop.

“Wish me luck,” she said.

“Good luck,” said Rose, and she wiggled her fingers to indicate the luck flying out.

With a sick feeling in her stomach, Henrietta let go, and she saw, in a blur, the attic disappear, the door shrink away, and the siding of the house flying past along with cold air and dizziness. . . .

Foomp!

She hit the pile, sinking deep down and then rolling off.

Gary hovered over her.

“Are you okay?” he said.

Henrietta stood and took a couple of shaky steps. She looked up at the house, and saw, far above, the cat hall, and Rose's face looking down through it. She smiled. She waved up to Rose. “It
was
kind of fun!” she said.

The yellow glow of Rose's candle went out. Then her feet appeared through the door. Soon, she was as far as she could go, and she dropped. The speed of the plummet was a little stomach-churning, but Rose sank into the soft pile and emerged quickly, bouncing right onto her feet.

All three of them laughed from nervousness and relief as they looked up at
the cat hall far above.

“What now?” said Rose.

“Call my grandfather,” said Henrietta, taking out her phone. She looked at the screen, about to search for Al's listing, but she froze.

“What is it?” said Gary.

Wordlessly, Henrietta turned the phone around and showed it.

WHERE DO YOU GO?

She placed it on the ground and stepped on it firmly, crushing it. Gary perused his own phone for a moment, frowned, put it next to Henrietta's, and smashed it, too.

“We've got to get out of here,” said Henrietta. “We should try to get to my grandfather's.”

“How?” said Gary.

“I don't know. It's called Sunset Estates. I know the address.”

“Maybe we can use my phone,” said Rose.

“Your phone?” said Henrietta. “I thought—”

“I lied,” said Rose. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Gary raised his eyebrows when he saw it. It was last year's model and looked a bit ridiculous. Instead of the curvy oval shape of this year's phones it was rectangular, with sharp corners.

Rose opened it and held it out so Henrietta and Gary could see the screen. It was blank except for a blinking green cursor.

“It's broken,” said Gary.

“It isn't,” said Rose. “It's cracked.”

“Cracked?” said Gary.

“My mom cracked it. It's off the system.”

“I don't understand,” said Henrietta.

“You said the Wikkeling was in the school computer,” said Rose. “Now it's on your phones. But mine is manual.” She started typing numbers onto her screen.

“What are you doing?” said Henrietta.

“Calling some friends.”

“You . . . you just
know
the number?” said Henrietta.

“I memorized it,” said Rose. She finished typing. She held the phone to her ear and stepped away as she began a whispered conversation.

A moment later, she pocketed the phone and turned to Henrietta and Gary. “They're coming,” she said.

“Who?” said Gary.

“Friends from the Old City,” said Rose.

A chill ran through Henrietta's spine as she heard the words. She wondered if Rose's “friends” would make things better or worse.

All three children jumped nearly out of their skins as a voice sounded from behind the landing pad they'd assembled.

“WHERE DO YOU GO?”
it said.

T
he Wikkeling had appeared from around the front corner of the house.
“WHERE DO YOU GO?”
it asked again, repeating the words exactly, the scratchy echo resounding down its pink throat as its mouth hung slack. Its body flickered out of sight for a moment, and when it returned it was a step closer.

“You want to know where we were?” said Henrietta, hoping to perhaps reason with it. “We were in the attic. Up there.” She pointed toward the cat hall. The Wikkeling looked up.

“Why does it matter?” said Henrietta. “Why don't you leave us alone?”

The Wikkeling flicked off and on again, returning to sight with one hand raised, its long, waxen index finger pointed at them.

Then another voice sounded, from behind the children at the opposite corner of the house. “Rose!” it lisped. Gary clutched his heart reflexively, wondering if he could possibly be any more nervous that he already was.

The children turned to see two strangers, and to Henrietta and Gary they looked more terrifying even than the Wikkeling. The one who'd spoken was wiry and bald with a pale face and a streaked gray beard. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt, grimy gray pants, and a pair of dark green knee-high rubber boots. His
pants were held up with suspenders that appeared to be laminated strips cut from plastic grocery bags.

The second man was equally dirty, and a mountain—at least six and a half feet tall. His dark red hair was wrapped into a loose bun, and his face was scruffy with stubble. A streak of grease was smudged across his forehead, as if he'd scratched an itch with a dirty hand.

Rose leaped forward and threw herself into the arms of the bald man. “That was fast!” she said. “We need help. We're going to Sunset Estates. We're in danger.” She pointed at the Wikkeling, which had stopped its advance for a moment, perhaps to assess the developing situation. It was immediately apparent that the two visitors couldn't see it, however, and Rose continued, “We need to go
now
.” Her voice filled with a tremendous authority that made her seem much older.

The bald man shrugged. “Jump on, then,” he said, kneeling. Rose scrambled onto his back, putting her arms around his neck, and he stood.

The enormous man knelt also, and indicated that Henrietta and Gary should follow Rose's example. “Nice to meet you,” he said in a scratchy voice. “My name is Oak.”

Henrietta hesitated.

“Hurry,” said Rose from her perch atop the bald man. Henrietta and Gary both pulled themselves onto Oak's impossibly broad back. Henrietta grabbed his left shoulder, and Gary his right.

The two strangers began to run, and Oak's gait almost shook Henrietta from her purchase. She grabbed tighter, curling her hands into his thick clothing as she looked ahead, wondering where they could possibly go. The only option she
knew of was the sidewalk—and that was gone now. But if you're the kind of person who can't be seen on sidewalks without getting arrested, you learn other ways. Henrietta had never noticed, for instance, that the rear alley behind her house also ran behind the house next door, and the one after that, continuing all the way up the block if you knew how to follow it: a little to the left, between two fences, and behind a narrow shed.

Henrietta and Gary held on for dear life against the jolts of Oak's long strides. She glanced back briefly—the Wikkeling was already out of sight behind them. She breathed a sigh of relief. Next to her, Gary said, “G-g-g—d-d-d,” which meant, “Good riddance!” His words were pounded down to two consonants by Oak's gait.

They made another turn down a narrow, pitch-dark alley between two tall buildings. Behind them, the sounds of traffic disappeared, replaced with sounds of splashing—they were running through water. Oak's stride slowed a little, and the jouncing settled enough for Henrietta to speak.

“Where are we?” she said, still holding on tightly.

“You won't understand the route,” said Oak.“We're . . . behind the scenes, you might say.” Ahead of them, the bald man turned suddenly right, disappearing. Oak followed, and they emerged into a wider alley with a few streetlamps overhead. Henrietta saw that they were running over bricks.

“Bricks,” she said to Gary. “Just like through the windows.”

“This is incredible!” said Gary. “I can't believe I never knew about this.”

“We're in the Old City now,” said Oak. “School buses never go back here—there's no children.” They took another turn into an open alley square at the
intersection of several buildings. The bald man had stopped ahead, and Rose was climbing off. Oak knelt and let Henrietta and Gary dismount. They both looked around in wonderment at the old buildings rising into the darkness around them. “Wow, wow,” Gary muttered under his breath as he took it all in.

“Rosie, you better explain yourself,” the bald man lisped, a little out of breath. “I'm of a mind to call your parents. The whole gosh-dang Old City is looking for you right now. And
these two
,” he gestured toward Henrietta and Gary. “The whole gosh-dang Addition is looking for them. And blaming us, I might add.” He snorted. Then he nodded at Henrietta and Gary. “Nice to meet you both, by the way,” he said, loping forward and extending his hand. “The name's OK.”

“OK?” said Henrietta.

“All right,” said OK. He smiled, and Henrietta saw he was missing his front teeth, which explained his lisp. “Now go ahead, Rose, with that explanation.”

“We can see an invisible creature,” said Rose. “It's called the Wikkeling. It's after us.”

“You're
sure
this ain't a game,” said OK sternly.

“I'm sure,” said Rose. “We think Henrietta's grandfather can help us. He's got a
Bestiary
.”

“An Alcott
Bestiary
?” said OK. Rose looked at Henrietta.

“That's right,” said Henrietta. “Do you know it?”

“Saw one once,” said OK. “A beautiful old book. You think your Wick-ling will be in there, do you?”

Just then a low rumbling sound entered the alleyway. “Here comes yer ride,” said OK. Then he pointed to the greasy dumpster. “Jump in here, and the truck'll
scoop you up with the trash.” He picked up Rose, carried her to the lip, and dropped her inside. “C'mon,” he said to Henrietta and Gary.

“You want us to get in
there
?” said Henrietta, spreading her fingers in revulsion.

“Wow!” said Gary. He immediately clambered over the top and flipped inside, disappearing. “Wow!” he said again, his voice echoing within.

When Henrietta didn't move, OK gestured to Oak, who scooped her up and heaved her gracelessly through the opening. “
Augh
,” said Henrietta as the terrible thick smell entered her nose.

OK's face appeared above them. “Pay attention, and make sure you get off at the right stop.” He grinned at Henrietta. “Pretend you're on the school bus.” He disappeared, and the rumbling grew quickly until Henrietta could feel it vibrating in the trash bags all around her. The dumpster began to tilt.

“Look out!” yelled Gary as the trash shifted, tumbling over itself. Henrietta tried to keep her balance, but before she knew it she was midair.

She landed on a soft pile, and a black trash bag flopped down on her head.

Gary rushed to his feet, his eyes wide. “We're riding in a garbage truck!” he said, obviously thrilled.

“This is gross,” said Henrietta, pinching her nose with one smelly hand.

“Are you kidding?” said Gary. He looked out from the open rear of the truck as it pulled from the alleyway and into traffic, the roar of the engine mixing with the sounds of other cars and trucks all around. “I've wanted to do this for my
entire life
!” He held his hands up in the air, striking a triumphant pose. “
GARBAGE TRUCK
!” he yelled.

Surrounding the truck were lanes of traffic, and the children peeked out at the cars.

“Stay down,” said Rose. Henrietta tackled Gary, and they both fell into the trash. Gary was laughing hysterically.

“I can't believe you wanted to do this,” said Henrietta.

“I thought
everyone
wanted to do this,” said Gary.

The truck took a slow turn onto a larger road, and the children peeked out. They were in one of the middle lanes of a ten-lane thoroughfare, high enough to look down through the windshields and see the blank faces of all the people driving.

“Watch for Sunset Estates,” said Rose. “If we miss it, we'll get compacted.”

“Compacted?” said Henrietta.

“Squashed,” said Rose, “when the truck reaches the dump.”

They began looking in earnest.

T
he news of her mother's death shook Aline, wiping her daughter and her studying friends entirely from her mind. She started to get dinner ready in a daze, threw out the breakfast dishes, and worked halfheartedly on a project for one of her clients.