The foliage crashed behind them.
The growling turned to roars as Cris leaped through wicked vines and squeezed between jagged trunks. She turned to follow him, his grip crushing her wrist as he pulled her through unexpected turns.
Her lungs burned.
He stopped in a tight opening and held up a finger, looking up and listening. His chest heaved against her cheek. Kandi’s pulse roared in her ears. Something struggled between unmovable trunks and snarling vines. Nostrils flared and snorted, claws digging at the jungle. There was a moment of silence.
Then a howl.
She couldn’t see what it was, but it sounded like wolves the size of charging bulls. They backed out of the impenetrable thicket, the sounds of snapping branches receding toward the surf. Cris backed away slowly, stopping once more with his finger on her lips. Blond curls hung from the checkered headband.
They came across a fallen palm tree. The stump was frayed. Cris grabbed a stray husk—the glove glimmering in the dim light—and a hole appeared next to it. He guided her to the edge. Her feet found the rungs. Kandi climbed into utter blackness.
Water splashed up to her knees.
Cris was next to her. Something about the size of an ornament began glowing. It hovered between them and illuminated the dank walls. The tunnel was flooded.
“What were those things?” she said.
“You don’t want to know.”
The glowing ornament made Cris look ghostly. Sharp shadows cut across his cheeks and flooded his eyes. Whatever was in the jungle was dangerous.
“We shouldn’t be in here at high tide. We’ll have to walk.” He sloshed through the black water. “I’m taking you back.”
Kandi didn’t move. She watched him slog away. The glowing ornament followed him until she was cloaked in darkness.
“Sonny’s gone!” Her words bounced down the tunnel.
“It’s not safe out there. You need to go back. Leave the island, Kandi. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Run away?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“They took him away, Cris. Something happened to Sonny and they took him.”
“A lot of things happen here.”
The ornament bobbed in front of him. Waves rippled against his knees. He looked around and listened, the glove casting starry patterns on the black water. He turned around and continued walking. The ornament hovered just over his shoulder and illuminated the scar.
He had been so fearless when he had taken her to the cliff, standing on the edge and looking down, as if the present moment was all that mattered, no matter what it contained. But now the muscles bunched around her shoulders.
He was afraid.
“Did she hurt you?”
“I’m trying to help you, Kandi.”
“Sandy told me about you. He said Sonny gets sick and then he comes back. But it’s not you that comes back, is it? You knew that was going to happen.”
The ripples stopped chopping on the tunnel walls.
“Are you sick, too?”
He didn’t answer.
“Did Sandy help you escape?”
“If I tell you, will you go back?”
“I’m not scared.”
“You don’t know anything.” He plowed through the water. “It’s better you go back to wherever you came from, go to school and grow up and get married and all of that normal stuff. This is an island of misfits and you don’t belong here. You should know that by now.”
“Why did you take me to the warehouse?”
He drew closer and shrugged. The ornament hovered between them. “Showing off.”
“You’re lying. You want me to know what’s happening out there. You’re tired of being on your own, tired of running. You’ve been watching me since we got here, and now you’re scared. I’m not, Cris.”
“I want you to go home. You don’t know what’s out there.”
“Neither do you.”
“I know what I’m doing!”
He turned and drove through the water again. This time, he wasn’t going to stop. He would leave her in the dark if she didn’t follow. It was better she stay down there for the night than wander through the jungle alone.
“I don’t want to lie!” The words exploded out of her, echoing to the far reaches of the tunnel and back again. Cris was a distant glow.
The waves stopped.
She didn’t know why she shouted that. It was a strange thing to say. She had come out to find Cris, to help Sonny, save him. The truth, though, was much deeper than that. Cris was protecting her from it. But she was tired of being shielded with tiny lies, her dad rubbing his temple. If monsters were under the bed, she wanted to see them.
She’d rather live in painful truth than a blissful lie.
The tunnel grew silent. An occasional drip rippled the surface. Cris was so far away, but his voice carried as if he were right next to her.
The ornament hovered near his shoulder. The hand-printed scar was clear even from that distance. A long silence ensued. If not for the ornament, she would have guessed he was gone.
“What if someone left you a note,” he finally said, “and told you that your entire life was a lie? That your father wasn’t who he said he was, that the world wasn’t warm and fuzzy. That you weren’t who you thought you were. Everything that was good and normal was a complete fake. And that you were going to die, but that’s okay. Because you can be replaced.
“Another Kandi will step in to take your place when you’re gone. She’ll look like you, sound like you and remember everything about you. But it won’t be you. Because you’re not special, not really. You’re just another checker on the board that looks like all the others.”
The ornament dimmed.
“Is that what they did?” she asked. “Left a note.”
The light continued dying. He was hiding from her. She’d seen the scar, seen his pain, and now he was doing the only thing he knew how to do.
At least he wasn’t running.
There was a trace of regret in his confession. One of the others had left a note for him to find. Kandi didn’t want to press, but it was obvious. At some point, they would know the truth. Somehow they’d figured out they were being replaced. How, they didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. The Sonny before Cris had left a note, and that truth had stolen his innocence.
It had robbed him of childish naiveté.
In some ways, it was easy being a child, unaware of the world’s problems, the monsters that trolled the dark places—and not make-believe monsters under the bed or in the closet. Children didn’t worry about real monsters that roamed the trees.
When Kandi was little, there were toys and dolls and imaginary friends who drank imaginary tea. She was never alone, never bored. But then a monster comes to your room and tells you your mom isn’t coming home ever again.
And you never have imaginary tea again.
It was completely dark. The ornament died and the water was still. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him breathing. One of the others had left him a note; they’d killed his childhood.
“Did you leave Sonny a note?” she asked.
Maybe he didn’t want to rob Sonny of that blissful ignorance, but would he go back to the room if he could? Would he choose to pretend it was Christmas every day again, make cookies and wrap presents and play checkers without knowing what roamed the trees?
Until the helpers came for him.
Cris had stood on the ledge and looked down. He wasn’t afraid. And he wouldn’t go back. Perhaps he cursed the truth for the suffering it brought, but he thanked it in the same breath.
“You want to find him?” The water began sloshing.
“I do.”
“You know where they took him, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you think I can get you in there?”
“That’s where you got the glove.”
He was getting close; she co
uld hear him breathing. If he could control the gnats, he could get them into the tower. She was only guessing. But she was right.
“What if he’s not there?” he asked.
“We have to look. He deserves that.” He was right in front of her. “So did you.”
Someone had helped Cris escape. They couldn’t leave Sonny behind. They had to try. Her eyes were wide and searching the dark. She couldn’t see anything, but could smell his musky odor. Waves rippled against the walls.
His hand slipped into hers. The ornament came to life. She squinted against the dim light.
“We’ll look,” he said. “And then you leave.”
THE TOWER WAS A DARK effigy.
Warped reflections flickered in the windows, but the cheer of Christmas was absent. A swarm of gnats hovered outside the trees. Kandi and Cris held still; their breath was silent. They stayed that way until her muscles ached and her chest burned. Sweat rolled into her eyes and tickled her nose. She lost track of how long they waited for the door to open. A figure stepped into the tower’s lunar shadow.
It was the miser in her heavy cloak.
A warm glow emanated from the hood, her hands tucked into the opposite sleeves. Cris held up his hand to make sure Kandi didn’t speak. Some of the gnats followed her.
Others waited outside the tower.
Cris held still and alert. The door had closed. The wall was once again seamless. She didn’t know how they would find it, let alone open it. But she trusted him because he was right. She knew nothing about the island. But he was with her, about to break into the tower because of something she said.
So I must know something.
He waved the glove and the gnats whipped around. They swirled after the miser. The air was clear, the tower alone. He bolted into the open and pulled her with him. He pressed the sparkling glove against the tower wall. A seamless glass door popped open next to him.
A staircase circled inside the outer wall.
It was stuffy. Strands of white lights circled around hand railings leading up the steps. Christmas music played somewhere at the top. A strange smell grew stronger as they climbed—something like baked clay and sulfur.
Her nostrils itched.
Vertigo spun her head around the higher they climbed. She held onto Cris as her knees grew weak. Her concern for Sonny was drowning in a sudden and unexpected spring of anxiety. The clash of strange smells and cheery lights was making her nauseous.
They finally stopped outside a heavy door.
Cris held up his hand to listen then pushed it open. Barefoot, he stepped into a long hallway. At the far end, the island glittered through a large window.
Someone was singing.
Kandi wanted to run toward the song, to sweep up Sonny and sprint out of the tower. The smell was sticking to her clothes and swirling in her head. Cris grabbed her wrist as she started to move. He held his finger to his lips and silently motioned for her to wait. There were only two doors in the hallway.
He crept towards the open one.
Kandi slid out of her wet shoes and tiptoed behind him. He looked back once and scowled, but she wasn’t staying. The singing grew louder.
Santa Claus was coming to town.
Cris peeked inside then stepped back and pointed. Kandi looked inside. There were machines inside a lab that were spinning and vibrating and dripping. A boy with blond hair was sitting with his back to her. He was manipulating a large pair of scissors around a folded square of paper. The singing turned into humming. He was barefoot, dressed in a white cotton gown, his toes propped on the struts of a metal stool.
He began folding the paper. When he was finished, he placed an intricate piece of origami on the table. It was in the shape of a Christmas tree.
“Sonny?”
He looked over his shoulder. His hair was short, almost bristly. His cheeks, rosy. He cocked his head and squinted.
“I know you,” he said. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Are you... sick?”
He shook his head then walked around the table to face her. He began cutting another piece of paper. Soon, he was humming again, nodding his head to the song and smiling as if she weren’t there.
“I came to get you,” she said.
“I’m supposed to stay here, Mother said. Before we go.”
“Where are you going?”
“It’s special. She’s been working on it a very long time.”
When he began cutting again, she walked toward him. There were paper reindeer and elves and snowmen on a surface that looked cold and hard and surgical. Behind him, large square machinery churned.
“Why are you here?” she said.
He shrugged. “I’ll get my own room pretty soon, when it’s ready. Mother said I’ll be able to see all the water in the world.”
Kandi wanted to sit on the empty stool, but she was afraid she wouldn’t get up if she did. Her legs were too untrustworthy.
“Do you want to play a game?” he said. “I’ve got more paper.”
She backed into the hall. He watched her with pained confusion. Nothing was making sense to either of them. She backed into Cris and he kept her from melting. She had to get out, to get away. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was hopeless.
The Sonny she’d known in the resort was already gone.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
“Sonny’s not here anymore.”
“Where is he?”
Cris shook his head. He didn’t know where Sonny went after he was sick. And didn’t stick around to find out.
“Where did he come from?” She was staring at the boy.
He looked up from his origami. “Are you talking about me?”
“You don’t want to know,” Cris said.
Suddenly, she wanted to leave. This wasn’t what she expected. She didn’t know how Cris and Sonny and all the others were related, but the weirdness was becoming unavoidable. Maybe this was why Cris didn’t want to bring her here. But she had to see it.
And now she didn’t want to.
“Where’s my dad? Is he still here?”
Cris looked up like he did when he listened, but this time he frowned. Whatever little bird whispered secrets in his ear wasn’t awake this time. The glove wasn’t working, or the tower had too much static.
Maybe her dad was back at the resort, looking for her. He was done with his work and he was ready to leave, and here she had run away. She wanted to go, to leave the island and take Cris with her. There was something very wrong on the island, something very wrong with the boy who looked like Sonny.
“I remember you now!” The boy stood up and pointed the scissors. “I saw your picture in there.”
He was pointing behind her, jabbing the scissors at the room across the hall. The door had been closed when they got there, but Cris had opened it.
“In there,” he said. “You’re in there.”
A cold sliver of fear slid into her stomach. She turned around and saw another lab, this one with different machines and more computers. There was an empty table in the center of the room. She wanted to run, but it was too late. She saw it.
The truth was coming.
There was a transparent box on the far side of the lab. Inside it, a flurry of tubes stirred like the legs of a hyperactive octopus. Sitting in the bottom like a new pair of shoes was a pair of bare feet. They were the size of snowshoes with big hairy toes. But they weren’t attached to legs or knobby knees. It was just a pair of fleshy feet.
The squiggly tubes were building them.
Cris held her firmly. He tried to pull her away, but she was transfixed. The truth was near and she couldn’t look away. She didn’t gasp, didn’t quiver or shake. She didn’t turn to run.
Cris gently nudged her toward the steps. “He’s not here,” he whispered. “Let’s go.”
But then she heard growling. At first, she thought it was one of the machines. It was coming from the stairwell. Cris went rigid. He squeezed her
arms hard enough to bruise them. Kandi still hadn’t looked away, but she knew what he saw.
In the stairwell, someone was holding two little poopies.
KANDI
30
“Give it to me.” The miser held out her hand. “Come on, give it.”
The dogs started yapping. A wisp of smoke leaked from her wide sleeve. A mysterious heat wave entered the hallway.
“Now.”
Cris pulled the glove off, one finger at a time, and poured it into her palm. She tucked it into her sleeve. Her gloves, as thick as the cloak, went all the way up her arm.
“Teenagers,” she said. “That’s when you turn, when the whole world is aaaaaall about you. I give you everything and it’s not enough. Take, take, take. Well, I hope you had your fun. It’s all over now.”
Her cloak glided over the floor. A sulfuric odor wafted toward Kandi. She cringed.
“Was he a hero? Did my naughty little boy protect you?”
“I’m not your boy,” Cris said.
“Say it all you want, you can’t change that, sweetie.”
“Where’s Sonny?” Kandi said.
The miser studied her. The hood was deeper than any winter coat Kandi had seen. It wasn’t meant to keep the cold out but the details of her face hidden. Kandi assumed she was sunburned and hideous.
Why else would she hide?
“Were you going to save him?” the miser said. “Is that why you’re up here?”
“Where is he?” Kandi demanded.
“You know nothing, young lady. You can’t help yourself.”
“I know he’s sick because of you.”
Smoldering anger flooded from the hood. She turned away before Kandi could catch a glimpse, and glided across the hall. The boy was oblivious to them, concentrating on a snowflake, his tongue between his teeth.
“Your father will help him. Do you know why you’re here, pretty young thing?” The deep hood turned toward Cris. “My filthy little boy wants to be a hero and you want to be saved.”
Kandi looked back and forth. It was hard to think. Her thoughts were foggy and clumsy. Cris wouldn’t look at her. He knew what the miser meant.
Rise of the Miser: Claus, #5 Page 20