Unwritten Books 1 - Unwritten Girl

by James Bow

  “B-but Rosemary,” said Peter, “they’re not people!”

  “To me they are! I can feel them!”

  Puck took Rosemary’s hand gently and pulled her away from the compartment. “I have always wondered why Rosemary could not finish most of her books,” he said. “And now I know. Sage Rosemary, how did you forgive me for turning Bottom’s head into that of an ass?”

  Rosemary smiled wanly. “He was an ass,” she said. “And I knew that it wasn’t going to be permanent.”

  “No one gets hurt in A Midsummer’s Night Dream,” said Peter. “In a couple of years we’ll have Romeo and Juliet. I think that’s going to be a problem. But I don’t understand; if Rosemary hates to see these characters suffer, why are they attacking her?”

  “Just get me out of here,” Rosemary muttered. “Please?”

  The Mystery Man nodded, his transparent hat brim shimmering the air. “She can’t stay on this train. It would be too much for her.”

  “Come on,” said Peter, taking her by the shoulders and leading her back to their compartment. There, he slid open the door.

  Rosemary stepped inside, looked up, and screamed.

  A girl’s body dangled from the ceiling. “Oh, my God!” Peter pulled Rosemary out into the corridor. “Puck! There’s a body in our compartment!”

  Nicholas and Eleanor perked up. “A body in their compartment?” They glanced at each other and broke into grins. “There’s a body in their compartment!” They rushed forward, but stopped short at the compartment door. They looked up and went pale.

  Nicholas fainted. Gagging, Eleanor ran for the bathroom, holding her mouth closed.

  Peter and Puck stared up at a girl very like Rosemary, her head lolling above a noose. She swung gently in time to the clickity-clack of the wheels over the rails.

  Rosemary covered her eyes. She leaned against the opposite wall.

  The Mystery Man stepped inside the compartment, looking up at the body. “This isn’t supposed to be here.”

  “Look!” Peter inched past the dangling feet and peered out the window.

  Puck followed him in. “Peter, what do you see?”

  Peter was glued to the window. “That Zeppelin is back.”

  Behind their backs, the hanging corpse raised its head and glared at Rosemary through its horn-rimmed glasses.

  “You’re next,” the dead girl mouthed.

  Puck pointed. “Wait. That shadow, by our own; that does not belong to the skyship.”

  Peter craned his neck up. “There’s another Zeppelin.”

  The window shattered inward. Peter scrambled back. A grapple slid into the compartment, grabbing at the air like a three-fingered claw.

  The train shook. The door slid closed.

  The man in the deerstalker hat leapt into the passageway and grabbed Rosemary from behind.

  The hanging girl grabbed the noose, loosened it, and jumped on Peter, knocking him to the compartment floor.

  Rosemary struggled, yelling, but her attacker wrestled her down and pressed his forearm to her throat. His clothes were wet and heavy. She choked. Her eyes widened as he pulled a double-hypodermic needle from his pocket, a murder weapon whose mark had masqueraded as a snakebite. The twin tips dripped with poison.

  “Let her go!” Eleanor ran back from the bathroom and jumped on the man’s back. He struggled and elbowed the girl, hard. Rosemary punched desperately. Her right arm, still blackened from its dip in the Sea of Ink, landed solidly in the man’s stomach. He grunted. His grip slacked.

  Nicholas, staggering up, tried to shove open the compartment door.

  Inside, Puck and the Mystery Man pulled the flailing girl off of Peter.

  The man in the deerstalker hat knocked Eleanor off him and dragged Rosemary to her feet. He held her from behind and pressed the hypodermic to her throat as Puck, Peter, and the Mystery Man poured out of the compartment.

  “Do not move!” he shouted, his voice rich and British. “We are taking her! We shall have our revenge!”

  The girl with the horn-rimmed glasses stepped to the door of the compartment. “Now!”

  The man in the deerstalker hat shoved Rosemary into a window. It caved in. Rosemary screamed as a grapple caught her blackened arm in its metal teeth.

  Peter and Puck rushed forward, grabbing at the metal jaws, but they held fast. The man in the deerstalker hat moved to stop them, but the Mystery Man surged forward and blocked him like a wave of water. “Get off my train!” he shouted. They fought. The Mystery Man swept him back into the compartment.

  The hook pulled back, dragging Rosemary towards the broken window.

  “No!” Rosemary yelled. She flailed. The grapple holding her arm hit the wall and sprang open. She fell away and lay on the floor, moaning. Peter grabbed her arm to check for injuries. She wasn’t even bleeding.

  The Mystery Man emerged from the compartment, locking its door.

  “How fast are these Zeppelins?” Peter gasped.

  “As fast as the story requires,” said the Mystery Man.

  The grapple made another swing, but checked itself. The train pulled ahead. Peter could see the bulk of the Zeppelin above them edging into view. “Why are they hanging back?”

  “We’ve entered a range of mountains and there’s a tunnel ahead,” said the Mystery Man.

  “Tunnel?” said Peter. He peered out the hole in the side of the train as Puck helped Rosemary to her feet.

  “Puck, I’ve got an idea!”

  “I hope it’s a good idea,” said Eleanor. She held the door shut against the shouting and fists of the girl with the horn-rimmed glasses.

  “We’ve got to get off this train,” said Peter. “If we don’t, the Zeppelins will keep following us and pick us off.”

  “But if you stop the train, we’ll be sitting ducks,” said Nicholas.

  “Not the whole train,” said Peter. “Just the last car.”

  “And use us as decoys!” exclaimed Eleanor. “Oh, how exciting!”

  “You two” — the Mystery Man pointed at Nicholas and Eleanor — “hold these characters here. The rest of you, follow me!”

  Pushing Rosemary ahead of them, Peter and Puck dashed along the corridors to the rear of the car. They pulled open the door to the next car and ran through that and through the one after that until they reached the end of the train.

  At the entrance to the last car, they halted.

  “We need to clear this car,” said the Mystery Man. “Fast.”

  “I saw the murderer!” Peter shouted. “He went that way!” He pointed.

  Heads poked out of the doors of the compartments. At the sight of Peter pointing, they stampeded into the corridor. Puck and Rosemary barely managed to duck away in time.

  The Mystery Man took out a key and opened a panel. “Once you lose the Zeppelins, try to follow the train. We were heading towards the next setting.”

  “But then the Zeppelins will be between us and it,” said Rosemary. “How do we get past them?”

  “Let me deal with that,” said Puck. “Your business is with the challenges.”

  The car plunged into darkness as they entered the tunnel. Puck moved Peter and Rosemary into the car, while the Mystery Man held back.

  “Challenges are never easy, Rosemary. But it is from challenges that heroes are born.” In the dying light, the Mystery Man pulled a lever. There was a rush of escaping air, and then the last car pulled back from the rest of the train, slowing steadily.

  “Good luck, Miss Watson,” said the Mystery Man. “You will save your brother, Theo.” Then, bending the light from the corridor, he tipped his hat to them and waved.

  Then the train pulled into the distance as the final car rolled to a stop.

  “What now?” asked Rosemary.

  “We walk,” said Puck.

  CHAPTER TEN

  FALLING ACTION

  “You heard the Wise Woman,” said Marjorie, pushing her horn-rimmed glasses further up on her nose. “Anything is possible if we p
ut our minds to it.”

  “Including jumping about the universe at a whim?” said John. “What do you take me for?”

  “Just hold hands,” Marjorie ordered.

  “This is silly,” said John, as Marjorie took Andrew’s and John’s hands into her own.

  “Shh,” said Andrew. “It can’t hurt to try.”

  “You just like holding my sister’s hand!”

  There was a rushing of air. The world around them changed. Then there was a moment’s stunned silence.

  “Marjorie,” said John, barely holding his voice steady.

  “Oh dear,” squeaked Marjorie. “It really does work!”

  ***

  “Rosemary, are you okay?”

  Rosemary snapped out of her daydream. “Yeah.”

  They trudged through the darkness of the tunnel, Rosemary stepping from tie to tie while Peter scuffed the rocks between the rails. As they came to the tunnel mouth, they crept close to the walls, keeping an eye on the sky, but there were no Zeppelins in view.

  “I don’t like this.” Rosemary shivered. “They knew we were on that train.”

  “They’re not here now,” said Peter.

  “When they see their error, they will come back to this tunnel with all speed.” Puck craned his neck to see around the mountain.

  “So, let’s get out of here,” said Peter. “Which way?”

  “Perhaps that path is going our way.” Puck pointed to a crossing ahead of them. The road clung to the side of the mountain, spiralling out of view.

  “No cover,” said Peter.

  “Then keep one eye on the sky.”

  Peter and Rosemary puffed up the slope. The ledge narrowed, until all that was left was the roadway. The mountain was a sheer wall on their left and a sheer drop on their right.

  As Rosemary limped along, Peter cast glances at her arm, still black from the Sea of Ink. Finally, he said, “Rosemary, is your arm okay?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “How heavy was that grapple?”

  “Heavy,” said Rosemary.

  “Didn’t it hurt?”

  “What do you think?”

  “But you’re okay now?”

  “Yes, Peter, I’m okay. What are you getting at?”

  Puck raised one pointed eyebrow.

  “That thing would have broken my arm,” said Peter. “But you’re okay?”

  “Yes, Peter, I’m fine,” she snapped. Then she winced and stumbled. “Ow!”

  He looked down. “You’re barefoot!”

  “I’m wearing stockings.”

  “Like that makes a difference.”

  “Do you think those high-heeled shoes that went with this dress would help any? Anyway, I left them on the train.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “You have shoes in your pockets?”

  “Puck,” Peter turned to him. “Could you change into a horse? Give us a ride?”

  Puck snorted. “On these rocks? Would you ride a mountain goat?” He pointed. “Perhaps we can find shoes there.”

  “I’m fine,” said Rosemary. She looked up. “Find shoes where?”

  Ahead of them, the ledge widened. On it was a tall and narrow house. On top of a roof like a witch’s hat a lightning rod waited for something to strike. The house was built right to the sheer drop.

  Rosemary swallowed. “Guys, I’m fine.”

  “You can’t walk around like this,” said Peter, taking her hand. “Come on!”

  In the shadow of the tall house amongst the barren rocks there was a little square of green. By the gate of this garden, an old man puttered around. Peter, Puck, and Rosemary walked up to him. “Excuse me, sir,” said Peter. “Do you have any —”

  The old man looked up and fixed Peter with eyes like planets. Peter froze.

  The man was tall and thin, wearing flannel pants, a white shirt, and a waistcoat, all of which looked too formal for gardening. His hair was silver, and combed precisely. He ran his thumbs beneath his suspenders.

  “What were you going to say, my boy, hmm?” said the old man, his voice crisp. “Shoes, was it? Shoes for young Rosemary Watson?”

  “Uh, yeah,” said Peter. He swallowed. “She hasn’t got any.”

  “Really,” said Rosemary. “I’m okay.”

  The old man beamed at her. “Nonsense! I would be remiss if I didn’t look, my dear. I would be even more remiss if I didn’t offer you my hospitality.” He opened the gate. “Come in, come in! I’ve made you all some refreshments.” He grabbed Peter’s and Rosemary’s hands and pulled them onto the lawn.

  The cool grass felt wonderful to Rosemary’s aching feet and she staggered at the rush of relief. She gazed longingly at a lawn chair beside a table that held a pitcher of lemonade and then shook herself, as though from a dream.

  “Ooh, lemonade!” Peter started forward, but Rosemary grabbed his arm. She looked up at the old man. “How did you know I’d be coming?”

  “It is my job to know these things. After all, I am the Professor.”

  “Professor what?” asked Peter.

  “Oh, I’m much too busy to deal with names,” said the Professor. Then he paused. “But I seem to recall my surname starts with the letter M. You may call me Professor Em, if you wish.”

  “What do you do, here, Professor Em?” asked Rosemary.

  “Well, I’m afraid I control the forces of evil.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Peter said, “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”

  “It is who I am,” said the Professor. “And as for how I knew of your imminent arrival, let me show you something.”

  He beckoned Rosemary around the house, with the others following, and pointed to the wall. A bank of screens covered the expanse of brick. Some of the scenes she recognized, having passed through them, seemingly ages ago. At the base of the screen, a long console held keyboards, displays, and printouts.

  “This is my control centre,” said Professor Em. “My eyes and ears, the centre of my web, and all that.” Something caught his attention and he turned to the screen. After a moment staring, he smiled, pressed a button, and spoke into an intercom. “Prince Valiant is heading down the path to the swamp. Cue the crocodiles!”

  “Crocodiles!” cried Rosemary.

  The Professor smiled at her. “I can’t let him off easily. If he wants to rescue his fiancée from the quicksand, he’s got to go through the crocodiles.”

  “His fiancée?” said Rosemary.

  “Quicksand?” exclaimed Peter.

  “You put his fiancée in quicksand?” said Rosemary.

  “No, that was just bad luck,” said the Professor. “But I arranged for his so-called friend to lead him into the crocodiles’ path.”

  Rosemary stared at him, appalled.

  “So, I have been watching you, Miss Watson,” said the Professor. He tapped a screen that showed images of Rosemary at the beach before the Sea of Ink, at the bridge of the Black Knight, in the haunted house, and on the Magical Mystery Tour. “I knew you would come this way. I’ve met lots of heroes, you see. Speaking of which, are you hungry? Would you like a sandwich?”

  Rosemary gave him a nervous glance. “No. Thank you.”

  The Professor smiled. “Never break bread with the enemy, eh? I suppose that’s wise, but it’s hardly civilized. Why don’t you relax? Sit down. Talk with me. So few people do, and I appreciate the company.”

  The Professor’s eyes were the colour of a pinstripe suit. Rosemary shivered. “No. W-we should be going.”

  “You’ve hardly rested,” said the Professor. “You haven’t even sat down. I haven’t fetched new shoes. Come, have some lemonade. I made it myself.”

  “No, thanks,” said Rosemary, backing away. “We really need to go, now.”

  “I worry you, don’t I, Miss Watson?” said the Professor. “You think that I’ll lead you into the path of the crocodiles as you attempt to rescue your brother.”

  “Well, wouldn’t you
?” said Peter. “Of course,” said the Professor. “But it would be for your own good. The truth is, you need me. You both need me.”

  Rosemary stopped. “I don’t need you!”

  “Certainly you do. Where would you be without me?”

  “A lot happier!” said Peter.

  “Are you sure about that? Are you really sure? Imagine, for a moment, a world without villains. Would you remember Robin Hood without the Sheriff? Superman in a perfect world? Behind every great hero is a great villain. Holmes had Moriarty. King Arthur had Morgaine. These legends would be nothing without their enemies.”

  “We’re not talking about a book,” said Rosemary. “We’re talking about real life; we’re talking about my brother!”

  “Then let us consider real life,” said the Professor. “Where would you be if not here, Miss Watson? Hiding in your study cubicle, I’d wager, reading your encyclopedias, running away from your books.”

  “Stop it!” Peter pulled Rosemary behind him. “We’re leaving. You are not going to keep us here any longer.”

  Professor Em straightened up. His tongue, forked like a snake’s, flicked out and tasted the air. “You’re right, my boy. I’ve kept you here long enough.”

  There was a whine of engines, and out of the valley, three Zeppelins rose into view, taking their places in the sky. Their grapples dipped and weaved like dangling cobras.

  “You tricked us!” Rosemary shouted.

  The Professor shrugged. “My dear child, whatever did you expect?”

  Rosemary could see the girl with the horn-rimmed glasses in the cockpit of one of the Zeppelins. The girl sneered at her.

  “Ah, yes, there She is right now,” said Professor Em. “This was Her idea. She is very new to the villain game, playing against type, in fact, but She has adapted. People do when they’re angry.”

  The grapples lunged.

  “Both of you, flee! I shall hold them off!” Puck picked up a stone the size of a soccer ball. He took three running steps and hurled it over his head. It sailed high and punched through the skin of the nearest Zeppelin. A hissing noise filled the air, and the Zeppelin sank out of view, its engines struggling and the cabin dropping ballast. Seconds later, there was a thump, and a fireball erupted skyward.