The Stone Child

by Dan Poblocki

  Maggie opened the baggie, swung her arm up over her head, then tossed the bones as hard as she could into the woods. All pairs of glowing red lights suddenly disappeared as the sound of scrabbling claws rustled farther into the brush. Barking and growling followed as, Eddie imagined, the monster lake-dogs fought over their favorite treat. He knew that the animals would be distracted for only a short time.

  From the backpack, Eddie tossed Harris the stapler and Maggie the sack of marbles. Harris immediately bent over and began stapling the shadows of trees that spilled into the moonlit clearing, as if it were possible to pin them to the ground. “Just to be safe,” he said. “I hope this works.”

  “What do I do with these?” Maggie asked, pouring the marbles into the palm of her hand.

  “Just drop them,” said Harris. “If the weeping spirits are out there in the woods, those will help.”

  Maggie opened her hand, and the marbles spilled onto the rocky soil at her feet. They immediately began to roll toward the edge of the clearing, glistening as they reflected the moon’s greenish light. Maggie gasped and leapt out of their way. The marbles disappeared into the brush. Moments later a strange cry came from the darkness—a harsh, painful wail that Eddie had once tried to imagine as he’d read The Ghost in the Poet’s Mansion.

  Maggie and Harris glanced at each other, then looked back at Eddie. The three of them seemed to come to a silent understanding, so at the same time, they all nodded. They were safe, but who knew for how long? Any number of other nightmares might be out there, watching them. Eddie turned back toward the statue and raised the hammer. He closed his eyes and brought it down on the corner of the stone child’s book.

  To his surprise, the hammer bounced away from the statue as if he’d hit it with a rubber mallet. When he opened his eyes to see what had happened, his stomach turned.

  Nothing had happened. He looked toward his friends, who stood behind him wearing worried expressions.

  “Maybe you should try again,” said Harris. He didn’t sound convinced that it would work, but Eddie appreciated his show of almost-enthusiasm.

  Eddie turned and raised the hammer again. This time, he aimed for the robe that draped down the statue’s leg. Again, the hammer bounced away as soon as Eddie made contact. He nearly fell to the ground from the ricochet. Wobbling away from the statue, Eddie dropped the hammer in frustration. “What do we do now?” he cried. “We don’t have a lot of time. The creatures won’t stay away forever.”

  “Let me try,” said Harris.

  Eddie nodded, even though he knew it would probably be useless. Like the pages of Nathaniel’s handwritten books, the stone seemed to be indestructible. No wonder it had not decayed over the course of the millennia—it could not. He bent over to pick up the hammer lying near the statue’s base. When he did so, he spotted the carved designs in the pedestal upon which the child stood. Hairy monsters, dragons, sphinxes, and countless other nasty beasts. He had noticed these designs when he’d examined the statue closely that first day Harris had brought him here, and now, in the moonlight, after all he had learned over the past few weeks, they seemed to tell a new story.

  “Hold on a second, you guys,” said Eddie, glancing at his friends over his shoulder.

  He leaned forward and touched the carvings. Letting his fingers brush against the images of the mythical beasts, Eddie remembered something he’d read in The Enigmatic Manuscript. He inhaled sharply and toppled away from the statue, falling onto his rear end in the dirt.

  “What is it?” said Maggie, rushing forward to help him.

  Eddie knelt, his head reeling with the possibility that he might have figured out a solution. Reaching inside his backpack, he pulled out the spiral notebook in which he’d written the translated text from The Enigmatic Manuscript. He frantically began flipping through the pages. The section he was looking for was somewhere in the middle—where Nathaniel was in Romania, learning about the legend of the key.

  “Eddie, what are you doing?” said Harris.

  Finally, Eddie found the right page. He held the book close to his face, so he could read the passage aloud. “‘Whenever any creature was refused passage into the Garden, the archangel used the key to carve its image into the stone pedestals as a record of its depravity,’” said Eddie. “Look, you guys.” He pointed to the images of the beasts carved into the base of the statue. “These must be the creatures that the angel refused entry to Eden. The angel used the key to mark them into the stone, so he would remember that they were not allowed to pass.” He waited for Maggie and Harris to understand, but they only looked confused. “The key is the pendant!” Eddie whispered. “According to the legend, the key can carve the stone.”

  Harris and Maggie both gasped.

  Eddie continued, “And if it can carve the stone, it may be the only way we can actually destroy the gate. Nathaniel Olmstead must not have realized he had the tool to stop the Woman in Black before he went through the gate to confront her himself.”

  “Quick,” said Harris. “Take the pendant out of your bag. See if it works.”

  Eddie shoved his fist into his bag, but the opening became a mouth filled with small sharp zipper teeth. The backpack began to wiggle and squirm, as if it were filled with rats. Two shiny black buttonlike eyes blinked at him from the small front pocket. The bag’s mouth closed on his forearm, and Eddie screamed louder than he had ever screamed in his life. Falling backward into the dust next to the statue, he pushed and kicked the bag away until it was a crumpled, dirty pile of nylon canvas.

  “What’s wrong with you, Eddie?” said Harris. “Get the pendant!”

  “But it was …,” said Eddie, staring at his bag, which lay a few feet away. “Alive?” It no longer had eyes or a mouth, only a logo and a zipper.

  “What do you mean it was alive?” said Maggie, from behind him.

  “It bit me,” said Eddie, keeping his eyes on the bag in case it made any sudden movements. What if it was playing dead? Holding up his forearm, Eddie examined his sleeve. It was intact. He realized that he hadn’t actually felt any pain. “Didn’t you see?”

  “No,” said Harris, “I didn’t see. I’m a little busy here.”

  Kneeling in the dust, Eddie turned around. Harris stood behind him, shining his flashlight at the pale faces staring from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. The Watchers had found them again.

  “Hurry, Eddie,” said Maggie, standing beside Harris, holding her own flashlight against the tall, black-cloaked figures.

  Suddenly, Eddie heard a different voice—a deeper voice, a smooth voice, like sweet dark syrup. Why do you want to hurt me, Eddie?

  He gasped, realizing why his book bag had appeared to attack him. The Woman in Black had created the illusion. She was nearby, watching him through the veil between her world and his. She was trying to stop him. Scrambling toward his book bag, Eddie chanted, “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real. …” He looked away from the zipper, took a deep breath, and reached inside. He slid his hand back and forth along the bottom until his fingers finally made contact with cold metal, then he grabbed the chain and yanked it free. The bag began to writhe on the ground beside him, so he quickly kicked it away.

  As he scrambled to stand, Eddie noticed that the carvings on the base of the statue looked different. They were larger than they were before, drawn with more detail. The etching of the dragon now had individual whiskers poking out from the sides of its mouth. The sphinx’s wings were constructed of intricately interlaced feathers. Several hairy little creatures seemed to stare at Eddie, their pupils dripping with anger. Hesitantly, Eddie inched forward, and the symbols began to move. They squirmed and pushed against each other, as if there was suddenly not enough space on the stone pedestal to contain them all. Before Eddie was able to back away, the creatures spilled from the statue’s base and rolled onto the dusty ground inches from where he stood. The monsters appeared to be made out of stone. They rose to their feet, like little moving statues. His
first instinct was to run, but he stopped himself. “This must be an illusion too,” he whispered.

  Still, he clenched his jaw as the tiny creatures collectively crouched around his ankles. The dragon lowered its head and began to growl as it eyed his shoelaces. Eddie held tight to the pendant and wrapped the silver chain around his wrist. He raised his foot and held it over the small group, threatening the creatures with the sole of his sneaker. Before he could take a step, the monsters leapt into the air. Eddie shrieked and ducked, preparing for the attack, but when none came, he glanced up. The dusty ground around his feet was clear. The monsters were gone!

  “Arrgh,” Eddie cried through his teeth. “I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not!”

  “Don’t think,” said Maggie, behind him. “Just do it, Eddie!”

  Once again, Eddie turned around. His friends were still holding off the Watchers—the beams of their flashlights shaking as the creatures opened their gaping black mouths.

  “You wanna switch places?” said Harris.

  Eddie shook his head. “No,” he whispered. If he didn’t do this himself, he was certain he’d never be able to sleep again. He turned around. As he found the courage to take a step toward the statue, he saw a hulking mass of shadow rise up from behind the stone child. The Woman in Black wrapped her arms, almost lovingly, around the girl’s neck. Her hideous mouth pulled back into a grotesque smile. The black holes in her face bored into Eddie’s chest, and he felt himself almost pushed backward in revulsion. She was closer than ever to coming through the gate—Eddie could feel her presence trying to burrow under his skin.

  She began to speak. She sounded tired. I have many friends, Eddie. My children. In his head, he heard her voice, each word like a bit of smoke releasing itself from a lick of flame. You have met some of them, haven’t you? she said, her mouth unmoving. You will be my friend too, my child. Listen to me. Give me what I want, and when I am through, I will give you anything you want.

  Eddie tried to speak, but he couldn’t. Anything I want? What did he want? he wondered. What could she possibly give to him?

  As if in answer to his question, Eddie suddenly found himself thrown into the air. Looking around, he realized he was in a school cafeteria, sitting on the shoulders of two football players. The entire school crowded around him. All of his teachers smiled brightly, and the prettiest cheerleaders chanted his name. Triumphant music began to play as—

  Eddie sat on a gold throne in a room made of giant marble pillars that stretched as far as he could see. Enormous platters of food were piled around him—vibrant, colorful fruits, roasted crackling meats, desserts covered in so much whipped cream he could not tell what was underneath. The sweet smell was intoxicating. His mouth watered as—

  Eddie flew high over a lush green countryside. Wind whipped at his face. Sunlight poured around him as he raced through the clear blue sky. Looking up, Eddie could see strange wings attached to his back. They appeared to be made of clouds. …

  Then he was back in the Nameless Woods—the pendant throbbing, ice cold, in his hand.

  Anything you want, the Woman repeated.

  He glanced at Harris and Maggie—his first real friends—who stood entranced and speechless at the sight of the Woman behind the statue, holding their flashlights against the Watchers at the edge of the clearing. Harris was beside him on his left, fierce courage written on his face. Maggie stood on his right, unflinching determination pulsing behind her eyes.

  He remembered the conversation he’d had with Maggie at the beginning of the school year. She had told him, “Epic tales of good and evil are so unnecessary. Those kinds of battles are fought every single day, right here. Kapow.” Eddie recalled how she’d pointed at his head and fired her finger like a gun. He finally understood what she meant. Those kinds of battles are fought every single day—right here—inside every decision he made, in order to do what he knew was right.

  I don’t need you to give me what I want, Eddie thought at the Woman. I’ve already got what I want standing here beside me.

  He clutched the silver pendant in his fist and took a step toward the statue. The Woman rose up, towering over him like night. He stepped forward again just as the statue clearing turned dark. He glanced up. Blocking out the moon, the Woman’s face now glowered at him from the sky. He turned away and looked into the stone child’s eyes. She seemed to stare knowingly back at him, giving him permission to do what was needed.

  Suddenly, the Woman in Black reached down at him with her shadowy hands, her arms stretching from the sky like tar pouring from a cauldron. Eddie cringed as her bony fingers swiped at him, but he felt nothing as her hands passed through him. She couldn’t hurt him—not yet, at least. He raced forward, lunging at the statue. Eddie grasped the key tightly. He raised it over his head, paused for only a moment to get the best grip, then plunged it into the stone child’s chest. In his head, Eddie heard the Woman scream. The pendant slid into the stone like a key in a door.

  The forest instantly went silent—all sounds of wild creatures ceased. Eddie looked around and saw that the three of them stood alone.

  The ground trembled. Where Eddie stood, the pebbles rattled like sand on a drum. Eddie turned back to the statue and watched as cracks spread from where the key had pierced it. Without thinking, he reached forward and grabbed the end of the pendant from which the silver chain dangled. Using the heel of his palm, he pushed as hard as he could, and the cracks crept out across the stone child’s chest and traveled down her alabaster robes. Dark lines raced across her body—out to her arms, up her neck, to her head, even across the book. Like ink on paper, the lines bled until every inch of her held a crack. Then she started to crumble. Eddie leapt away from her and ran to where Harris and Maggie stood.

  They watched as small bits of stone slowly fell away. The statue continued to erode, and after a moment, like a pause before an exhalation, her body simply disintegrated into dust. Moments later, a small breeze came from the direction of the lake and blew most of it away.

  After the dust settled, the necklace lay sparkling in the dirt as it caught the moonlight’s white reflection. Harris, Eddie, and Maggie watched in awe from the center of the clearing. After a moment, Eddie stepped forward, picked up the necklace from the ground, and slipped it into his backpack.

  A voice came from somewhere—it was so quiet, it was impossible to tell exactly whether it was above, below, in front, or behind the three of them. Secretly, Eddie knew it was the Woman in Black, screaming to him as the gate closed to her forever. She said something none of them could hear, and then her voice died away.

  Eddie sighed in relief.

  “Are you okay?” said Maggie, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  “I guess so.”

  “That was awesome! Nice job, Eddie,” said Harris.

  Eddie glanced around at the forest. The dogs had disappeared. The Watchers were no longer watching. All the other creatures that might have been hiding in the shadows were gone.

  18

  They trampled their way back through the woods in the direction of Nathaniel Olmstead’s abandoned house. Eddie was exhausted. He knew his friends felt the same way. Each held a flashlight, swinging the light at every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves. Eddie had a feeling he’d be sleeping with the lights on tonight, yet for some reason, he was also certain they didn’t need to worry about the monsters anymore. They’d defeated the scariest one of all. Now they simply had to get home.

  When they reached the orchard, Eddie heard something that made him want to run all the way up the hill. It sounded as if someone behind them had coughed. Harris and Maggie heard it too. They both spun, holding the flashlights against the shadows between the trees on the hill. But they didn’t see anything. Had they imagined the sound? Or was there another monster who had followed them from the clearing?

  They had destroyed the gate. Right? They had nothing to worry about.

  But as they walked past the last row of twisted apple tre
es, Eddie heard the distinct sound of feet brushing through the grass behind them. This time, when Eddie spun around, his flashlight found its target.

  A pale face stared back at him, squinting as the beam of light shone in its eyes. Eddie’s hand shook, and he dropped his flashlight. A man stood ten feet away, backlit by the moon. Even so, Eddie thought he could still make out some of the distinct details of the man’s dark face. The eyes had aged since the last photograph Eddie had seen. The beard had grown shaggy and gone gray. His ratty hair now hung past his shoulders. Time had passed since his picture had appeared on a book jacket. Thirteen years, to be precise.

  Harris and Maggie spun, their own lights taking over for Eddie’s. Eddie bent down to pick up his own from the grass. Then, as they all shone their flashlights on the man who stood behind them, Eddie’s friends discovered his identity. They were staring into the eyes of Nathaniel Olmstead.

  “Who—who are you kids?” said the man, holding his hand up to block the blinding light. He wore dingy clothes, a torn T-shirt, and dark, stained pants. An acrid stench surrounded him, as if he hadn’t bathed since the last time he’d set foot amongst these overgrown trees.

  Eddie couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He opened his mouth to talk, but he was so nervous, nothing came out.

  Harris spoke up instead. “I’m Harris,” he said. “This is Maggie. And this is Eddie.” He paused before adding, “Are you Nathaniel Olmstead?”

  The man nodded, a hint of skepticism in his eye. “Where are we?” said Nathaniel.

  “This is the orchard behind your old house,” said Harris. “You’re back in Gatesweed.”

  Nathaniel opened his mouth and looked toward the sky. A wave of relief seemed to wash over him. He dropped to his knees and pressed his palms to his face, clutching his forehead with his long fingers. After a long moment, he shook his head and lowered his hands. “How?” he said. “How?”

  The three of them looked at each other. How were they supposed to answer that question? Nathaniel continued to kneel in the grass, staring in disbelief at the hill where his house sat like a sentinel waiting for their approach. The wind blew dead leaves through the field, and the man began to tremble. Eddie stepped forward. He held out his hand to Nathaniel. “Come on,” said Eddie. “It’s a long story.”