by Abe Moss
“If he’s still alive,” Tobie said.
“Of course he’s still alive,” Jackie said.
“No, not of course. They kill people in those places. Torture them, do weird experiments on them. All kinds of stuff. There’s no telling where he is or what’s happening to him now.”
“How would you know?”
It was Clark who spoke up now. He and Tobie exchanged cross glances. Tobie looked him up and down, as though to wonder why Clark thought he could join the conversation.
“I know a lot more than you, trust me.”
“How?”
“Just ignore him,” Jackie said. “My brother’s a liar.”
“I’m not lying about this,” he said, apparently in agreement with the general accusation. “I knew some people at school who had cousins or something that went to the asylums. Even to The Cradle.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Yes, Jackie, I did.”
“What’s The Cradle?” Emmett asked.
There was a long pause between them as they considered.
“That’s where they take kids.”
“When the adults get taken to the loony bin, any kids they had go to The Cradle. And that’s not a nickname, either. That’s what they call themselves. I don’t know why.”
“Because it’s run by a completely different organization.” It was Tyler who said this, and it took Emmett a moment to understand what he’d said, he was so surprised to hear him speak at all. As the oldest, it was hard for Emmett not to believe his every word. “At least, that’s what they tell people. They don’t want to be associated with the adult asylums. If people knew they were treating children as badly as the adults in the asylums, there would be protests. So, they came up with a special name, and told people it’s like a giant daycare. A giant, happy orphanage. But it’s the same as the rest. Maybe even worse.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Jackie asked.
“Eileen told me.”
Jackie groaned. Tobie overheard this and laughed. “Oh, are you jealous of Tyler’s girlfriend?”
“She’s not his girlfriend. She’s like, four years older than he is.”
“Well he’s three years older than you, so I wouldn’t care so much if I were you.”
The two of them continued squabbling deeper and deeper into the woods until the conversation was long forgotten.
“Who’s Eileen?” Emmett asked Clark, walking side by side behind the others.
“Mrs. Holmes’ daughter.”
“Oh.”
Before much longer, they arrived at the fort. Well… what would eventually be a fort. As of that moment, it was just a spot of ground they’d picked out next to the creek. Tobie excitedly explained to Emmett what it would look like, tracing a large square with his foot in the dirt. They’d dig a deep hole for them to stand it, and then drag as many branches as they could over the top of it for a ceiling.
Tyler asked Tobie if he wanted the honor of breaking ground first, which Tobie seemed exceptionally proud to do. While Tobie started digging, Tyler took a nap on a rock by the creek. Twenty minutes later, Tobie was panting and glistening with sweat under the gray sky. He dropped the shovel and joined Clark and Jackie and Emmett, who simply paced around the small clearing. Clark held a large stick which he used like a cane as he walked, flipping rocks and other sticks.
“Done already?” Jackie asked. She peeked over Tobie’s shoulder to see where the shovel lay. “Doesn’t look like you did much.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a start. And it’s more than I know you’ll ever do.”
Tobie asked Tyler what he thought of the start he’d gotten on digging the fort. Tyler sat up with a tired groan.
“Cool.”
He lay back down. Tobie watched him awkwardly for a time, likely wondering when he would help dig, but that moment never came. As Tyler napped, the others entertained themselves for a short while until they were bored. Eventually Tyler sat up again. He grabbed the shovel, at which point Tobie perked up.
“We should probably head back.”
Tobie muttered irritably under his breath.
On their walk back to the house, Clark whispered to Emmett, “He only hangs out with us because he has nothing else to do.”
Emmett had to agree.
✽ ✽ ✽
That evening, after dinner—chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy—all the children gathered in what they called ‘the reading room’. It was a small room in the corner of the house, between the entrance and the kitchen, where Mrs. Holmes kept all her books. There were two walls of bookshelves, each of them chockfull with books of all sizes. At first Emmett couldn’t believe it—didn’t know a person could own so many books. He thought his mother had owned plenty, but hers were nothing compared to these. In the corner was a deep, plush chair, where Mrs. Holmes seated herself. The children sat before her on the rug. Jackie, the most excited of the bunch, lay sprawled on her stomach, swishing her legs in anticipation.
“I hope everyone remembers where we left off!” Mrs. Holmes said. “Except for you, Emmett. But you’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”
“I’ll fill you in later,” Clark whispered.
Whether or not he knew the story from the beginning didn’t matter much. Within a single page, Emmett found himself entranced. It was a story of magic. There were wizards, goblins, and trolls. There were mentions of dragons, which Emmett found particularly alluring. He waited with bated breath as Mrs. Holmes turned each page with a lick of her finger. If he’d had any power whatsoever to look away, he’d have seen all the other children doing the same. Even Tyler listened, though he lay on his back behind everyone else, eyes closed, hands together peacefully on his chest.
Halfway through that night’s reading they took an intermission. Anyone who needed to use the bathroom could do so. During this time, Mrs. Holmes heated some water on the stovetop for tea, and offered it to anyone who’d like some. Having become an apparent ritual, all the other children partook. Even Bailey took a cup, though she only smelled it. Emmett took a cup as well. Chamomile, Mrs. Holmes called it. He thought it tasted mostly like water.
As they resumed their book, Mrs. Holmes stole glances at the children as she read, watching them fight to stay awake. Emmett, unlike the others, sat upright, eyes wide and alert, so engrossed he didn’t notice the bobbing heads, the yawning mouths, or the heavy breathing around him. When Mrs. Holmes finished the chapter and closed the book with a sleepy smile of her own, he felt incredible disappointment.
“Will we read more tomorrow?” he asked.
“We’ll see,” was her answer. “For now, it’s time for bed.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Once they were in bed and the lights were out, it was as if the spell were broken. Sleep seemed a distant and foreign concept. The boys lay in bed and discussed the book so far. Tyler claimed to have already read the book, and so excluded himself from their conversation to keep from spoiling it for the rest of them. Emmett just lay and listened to Tobie’s and Clark’s discussion. It was almost enough to distract him from his homesickness, which never failed to resurface in the back of his mind at any and every moment. This night, however, he didn’t feel such an intense effort not to cry over it.
✽ ✽ ✽
His eyes were open and his heart was racing. He stared at the wall beside him. He felt petrified, having been startled awake by something. He let out a shuddery breath. Had it been a dream? Very slowly, he sat up in his bed. The others were still asleep, it appeared.
Then it happened again. It was a sound that woke him, in another part of the house. It traveled, deep and rumbling, through the floors and walls to their room, vibrated through the vents. He turned to the bedroom door and saw it was shut. He waited, chest pounding. Surely the others had heard it, too? No one else stirred. Then it came again.
Moaning.
It was torture and grief and helplessness and agony all combined into one horrid sound, rising from the pit of something broken
, shaking the house’s frame in its fervor. In the dead of night, Emmett was sure it could only be one thing.
“Clark,” he whispered. “Clark.”
“We hear it, too,” Clark said, apparently awake. Emmett was relieved by the sound of his voice. “It’s nothing.”
It continued, on and on. “You mean the moaning?” Emmett asked, wanting to be sure.
“Yes.”
“It’s the ghosts of the house,” Tobie announced, and he sat up in his own bed. “They’re coming to get you, Emmett.”
“No, it’s not,” Clark said. “Don’t listen to him.”
“What is it, then?” Emmett asked.
“It’s Lionel.” This voice was Tyler’s. He lay on his back, under the moonlit window. He sounded rather irritated by the whole thing. “We’re treated to this a couple times a month, nowadays. It’s worse lately than it used to be. He’s only ever getting worse…”
“He’s sick,” Clark said. “Mentally, I mean.”
“What’s he think is happening to him?” Emmett asked. “He sounds like…”
“He sounds like someone’s shoving a hot iron up his ass,” Tobie said. As cruel as it was, Clark and Tyler snorted quietly in response.
“Hard to say,” Clark said. “Not even he knows, probably. It sucks.”
Emmett flinched as another jarring sound joined in. Loud, vicious, snarling dogs. They barked and howled over the sound of their master. A regular nightmare choir.
“Why’re they doing that?”
“I think the moaning hurts their ears,” Clark said. “That, or they feel sorry for him.”
“They get riled up,” Tyler said. “They’re just following Lionel’s lead.”
Mildly disturbed, Emmett lay back, pulled his covers up to his chin. The moaning continued, off and on, for another half hour or so. The dogs quit their ruckus long before Mr. Holmes quit his, but eventually—finally—the house quieted down again. Mrs. Holmes, Emmett thought, must have her hands full.
CHAPTER THREE
DOWNPOUR
Under an ever-gloomy sky, they returned to their fort, this time with a second shovel so that two could dig. On their way, Tobie remarked on what a great start he’d given them. However, once they arrived, he realized his memory was a bit exaggerated.
“I could have sworn the hole I started was bigger.”
“You only dug for maybe five minutes,” Jackie said.
“Okay, it was definitely longer than that.”
Emmett found satisfaction in sitting on the sidelines and watching as the others bantered. Soon enough, they decided Tobie would resume digging in his original spot. Clark would start another hole a few feet away. They’d dig deep and wide, and then connect the two holes to make the larger space which they’d then refine to a clean rectangular room. Tyler announced he would monitor them from his rock.
Emmett and Jackie watched them dig for a while, sitting quietly beside each other. The longer he watched, the more difficult Emmett found it was to keep his thoughts present and focused. He watched their shovels strike the dirt, heaving chunks aside one by one…
“Did you hear it last night?” Jackie asked Emmett, startling him mildly. “Mr. Holmes?”
“Oh… yeah. We all did.”
“Did it scare you? It’s okay if it did. I’ve heard it more times than I can count now, and it still scares me at first. I can’t sleep after. Never…”
Jackie traced a circle in the dirt with a twig. She put two dots for eyes, and then a smiling mouth underneath. Emmett watched with drifting interest. His attention was drawn to the digging. The shovels struck the ground, dirty heels stomped them deeper. The mounds of loose, removed dirt steadily got taller and rounder. They puffed their cheeks, tired and weaker with each shovelful.
“Are you ready to see a magic trick?”
A memory. His eyes narrowed as it entered his mind, not entirely sure he wanted it there.
“It’s a bit of work, but it’ll be more than worth it. You’ll see.”
His mother’s voice. He glanced peripherally toward Jackie beside him, confirming he was the only one to hear it.
Dig, dig, dig.
Droplets of sweat trailed down their foreheads, their temples. The ground was hard. Rocky. Their arms flexed, their backs strained. The air was cold and smothering…
Dig, dig, dig.
A bright lightbulb hung over their heads from the ceiling. It shined a sickly white light. And there was blood wiped on the hard concrete…
“This is what we’ve been waiting for, Emmett.”
A shiver ran through him, sitting on the hard, frigid ground.
“My mom and I dug a hole once,” he murmured, looking distantly at the place where Clark was currently scarring the earth.
“Huh?” Jackie asked.
He turned to see her, disoriented as he was pulled from his memories by the sound of her voice.
“Oh… nothing…”
“Hey! Look!”
It was Tobie. His shovel lay forgotten behind him. He pointed to the sky, to the crossings of branches there.
“Look at what?”
“I think I see a nest up there. Do you see it?”
Jackie stood, stepped closer to her brother. “I don’t see anything…”
“Up there,” he insisted, and emphasized it with a jab of his finger.
“Up where? I can’t tell where you’re pointing.”
“There! Where that bird just flew from!”
Sure enough, a bird took flight, the small branches bobbing in its absence. Emmett searched with the others along those branches, until…
“Oh, I see it!” Jackie exclaimed. “I bet that was the mother bird that flew off.”
Finally Emmett saw it. Just a small, brown knot in the more delicate branches way up top. Even Tyler sat up from his rock to get a look, but not for long. Once he saw it for himself, he lay back and closed his eyes again.
“I mean, really… there are probably lots of nests all over these woods,” Jackie said, peering up at the other trees. She turned in a complete circle. “We just never notice because we’re not looking.”
“Think I can hit it?”
Somewhere, Tobie had picked up a short, fat stick. He flipped it end over end in his hand, biting his lip as he eyed the nest over their heads. Jackie gasped.
“Don’t throw stuff at their nest!”
Before anyone else could object or attempt to stop him, Tobie flung the stick as hard as he could. Each of them held their breath watching, morbidly curious as it twirled up and up. Before it reached its target, it glanced off a different branch and fell out of the air. Right away, Tobie was hunting for the next stick to throw.
“No more,” Jackie said.
“Oh, come on. They’re just birds.”
Tobie snatched up another stick, deemed it unworthy, and tossed it over his shoulder in search of the next. As he bent to pick up another, Jackie kicked it from his reach.
“Hey!”
“I’m serious! Don’t throw anything else at the nest.”
He paced in the other direction, quickly eyed another branch, and swiped it from the ground. Jackie pursued him. She grabbed at the stick in his hand. He jumped back, shimmied away from her clawing fingers. He laughed as she growled.
“Give it to me!” she shrieked.
“Calm down, they’re just birds!”
“I don’t care if they’re just birds, stop throwing things at their nest!”
Tyler was sitting up again now. He muttered something, an ineffective attempt to diffuse the situation which nobody heard. Jackie, slowly tracking Tobie in a circle like a tiger cornering its prey, clenched her fists, her face pinched and red. She dove for him, shoes scuffing clouds from the dirt. He danced back, twirled around her slipping feet. He ran a few paces away from where she fell. He turned on his heel, cocked the branch behind his head, and flung it up into the trees. On her hands and knees, Jackie craned her neck to see. Tobie’s stick went much higher th
is time, came much closer to the nest, but hit another branch and was knocked back down to them.
“Throw another stick and I’ll kill you!!!” Jackie bellowed.
“Okay, Tobie,” Tyler said in his sleepy voice. “Knock it off.”
“I didn’t even do anything. She’s making a big deal out of nothing.”
Jackie got to her feet and closed in on her brother, raised a flat-palmed hand over her head. Laughing nervously, Tobie stepped back, shielding himself with both his arms raised. The tallest between them, Jackie reached over his arms and slapped him on top of his head.
“Ow!”
She made to slap him again and he pushed into her, grabbed her wrist in his fist, his head turned away defensively all the while. From there on, it was a pathetic battle of shuffling feet and messy groping.
“Stop, you guys,” Tyler said. He still hadn’t left his rock.
They turned in a circle, grunting and pushing against the other. Emmett and Clark watched with guilty fascination. Jackie got another couple slaps in on her brother’s shoulder. Tobie kicked her in the shin, which prompted a flurried retaliation of her own, kicking wildly into his feet and legs. He cried out, struggling to stay standing as she threatened to bowl him over. Tyler only sighed disapprovingly.
“Get… off me!”
Tobie shoved Jackie away from himself and she stumbled back. Casting daggered stares at the other, panting, they decided to leave it at that. Jackie swept her hair over her shoulder, smoothed it with her fingers. She shook her head, disbelieving.
“I’m going home,” she said. “I don’t want to be around him anymore.”
“You can’t go by yourself,” Tyler said. “Irene’s rules.”
She turned to Emmett and Clark, still sitting together at the edge of the clearing.
“Clark?” she asked. “Do you want to stay or will you go with me?”
After a moment’s consideration, Clark agreed to go and got to his feet.