The Hidden Boy

by Jon Berkeley

  Bea changed the tune of her humming to a lower, honey-laden tone. She could hear a brief drop in the noise of the distant hive as they tried to locate the sound she was making. The bees seemed agitated. Swarming was like an itch they had to scratch, and it created a purposeful racket that sounded so loud to Bea that she wondered how everyone was not deafened by it.

  She opened her eyes and looked along the path. Through a gap in the leaves she could see the distant figures of Granny Delphine, Phoebe and Mr. Morganfield. They stood in a row like pins in a bowling alley, waiting for the Ledbetters to roll along the path from the distant lake. A finger of sun found its way down through the canopy and warmed Bea where she perched. She closed her eyes again, listening for the ripples of silence that would signal the approach of the Ledbetters. The drone of the bees stretched into the distance in all directions, and she felt herself suspended in its center, like a drowsy fly in a vast, invisible web. She stifled a yawn. Wouldn’t it be terrible, she thought to herself, if I fell asleep right when I’m needed most?

  She blinked and rubbed her eyes. She was sure she had been sitting high in the broad arms of the elm tree, but now she found herself in a small room with blank walls. The room was empty except for a squatting figure with straw-colored hair and washed-out eyes. With a plummeting feeling she realized it was Ike Ledbetter, and before he opened his colorless lips she knew exactly what was coming.

  “Give us the Hidden Boy,” he said.

  Trigger

  Bea Flint looked at Ike Ledbetter with a sinking feeling. She knew she had been about to do something very important, but Ike’s stare seemed to wash everything useful from her mind. She tried to get a grip on her panic for long enough to make her voice work. “What are you doing here?” she said.

  Ike stared dumbly back at her. He seemed a little less certain than before.

  “You don’t need to do this anymore,” persisted Bea. “The Quorum has made an agreement with Maize.” She could not remember now exactly what the agreement was, but she knew it was important. Ike said nothing.

  “You could be working on your boat,” said Bea.

  To her surprise a sort of smile broke out on Ike’s face. It was not a face that was used to smiling, and it looked about as comfortable as a left shoe on a right foot.

  “Boat’s nearly finished,” he said. “She’ll float true, she will. I makes the best boats.” He sat there expectantly.

  It was beginning to dawn on Bea why Ike had come back. He wanted to talk. She wondered if anyone had ever tried to be nice to him before. “That sounds…um…well done,” she said.

  “I just got to add the rowlocks, and put in a bench.”

  Bea searched Ike’s expression. He did not seem so menacing now, and she almost felt sorry for him. Still, there was a stubborn look on his face, and he seemed as determined as ever to remain where he was. “Why don’t you go and do that, then?” said Bea.

  Ike shook his head. She waited for an answer, but he said nothing. The anxious feeling increased. She was supposed to be doing something, and it was urgent.

  “Why not?” she said.

  Ike Ledbetter glanced at his feet. They were grimed with dust, and his toenails were yellow and broken. “Don’t want to,” he muttered. “I likes it here.” He looked up at her and said in a rush, “I’ll name the boat for you, only I don’t know your name.”

  “You have to go,” said Bea desperately. “I need to…” What was it she needed to do? The urgency of her task buzzed at the back of her mind like a bee at a windowpane. “Bees!” she said, suddenly remembering her plan.

  “That your name?” said Ike.

  “No,” snapped Bea. “I mean, yes. It’s Bea. Now will you go?”

  Ike shook his head again. He had made a friend for the first time in his life. He did not know much about making friends, and even less about keeping them, but it seemed to him that staying put was the best bet.

  Bea felt a tightness in her chest. She had left Phoebe out there on her own. The Ledbetters were coming, and timing was everything. She tried to step out of her dream and picture herself perched, sleeping, in the tree, but as long as Ike squatted in her dream she seemed unable to escape it. Her panic turned to anger in an instant. She could neither move nor leave that blank white room, so she did the only other thing she could think of. She began to hum the angry song she had learned from the bees whose honey she had taken.

  Ike shrank back against the wall. “What are you doin’?” he said. “Don’t make that noise! You’ll wake ’em. You’ll wake ’em up.”

  Bea saw the fear in his eyes. It came from somewhere deeper than his fear of Maize Ledbetter. She hummed on.

  “I told you to stop,” said Ike. He looked as though he had been slapped in the face. “I thought you was different,” he said. “I thought you was nice.”

  Bea could see Ike’s stubbornness increase. He settled in place like a rock, and his face closed down. She hummed louder. A strange tingling ran through her, and she felt something sprouting from her back. It startled her so much that she tried to cry out, but her mouth felt odd and brittle. She could feel herself inflate, and her vision shattered into a million images. At the edges of her kaleidoscopic vision she could see stripes of black and yellow, and her giant furry bee legs planted on the floor below her. This is not supposed to happen, she thought to herself. Her enormous wings blew dust around the little room, and her antennae uncurled themselves at the terrified boy in front of her.

  Ike was cowering now, his face deathly white beneath the dirt, but the cold malice of his great-grandmother glared out through his saucer eyes. “That’s bad Mumbo Jumbo,” he said. “But I’ll pay you back. I’ll find the Hidden Boy myself. I knows things. I’ll find him, and when I get my hands on him you’ll be sorry you met me.”

  In an instant he was gone, leaving nothing but a rapidly fading shadow where he had squatted. Bea tried to close her eyes. The fractured pictures were making her dizzy. “Bees don’t have eyelids,” she reminded herself. She stopped humming and stilled her wings. She breathed deeply. She blinked. That was a good sign. Her vision slowly returned to normal, and she held her hands out in front of her to make sure she had reverted to her usual self. She felt drained, and for a moment she just sat where she was, staring at the wall opposite. Still her dream showed no sign of dissipating. She scanned the walls for a way out, but the room seemed entirely featureless. She tried to remember everything that Arkadi had told her.

  “Everything in this dream is mine,” she said aloud. She knew there was no time to lose. “In which case,” she added, “I’d like a door.”

  Before the words were out of her mouth she noticed a hairline crack in the wall in front of her. She was sure it had not been there a moment before. It traced a rectangle that reached almost to head height. “That’ll do for a start,” said Bea. The feeling that she was back in control ran through her like clear water, and she was on her feet in an instant.

  Her legs felt wobbly, as though they were barely strong enough to support her. She went to the door and pushed gently. It swung open without resistance. A green light flooded the room. The rectangle of the door was completely filled with gently fluttering leaves. She reached out for something to hold on to, and a slim branch appeared just where she needed it. A broader one appeared at her feet as she stepped out through the door. This is not so hard, she thought. She could see nothing below her but more leaves. Her nostrils were filled with the smell of sap and the fragrance of flowers. She squinted up at the sunlight that filtered through the leaves. High above her the thinner branches swayed in the breeze, and suddenly she remembered the whispered words of Mr. Horton: All trees are thin and wavy, Bea. It just depends on where you’re standing.

  “Of course!” said Bea. She could not imagine why she hadn’t thought of it before. “He’s up high!” She hesitated for a moment. She knew Phoebe was waiting for her down below, but she was equally sure that Theo was somewhere above her, and she might never find herself
here again. “Theo?” she said. Around her the wind shushed through the leaves like waves on a beach. She called his name again. There was a distant answer, but she could not make out the words. Before she knew what she was doing she was climbing as fast as she could, heading for the sound of Theo’s voice. Her legs still felt like jelly, but she set her jaw and kept pushing upward. She reached a layer of thick foliage and intertwined branches that was so dense she had to force her way through it. The branches scratched her skin and she was almost blinded by the light. Here under the sky the trunks were slim and the leaves danced in the breeze. She had never smelled air so fresh.

  “Theo?” she called again, squinting against the light.

  “Where have you been?” said Theo. “You were gone forever this time.”

  She turned and saw him, sitting on a branch and swinging his legs impatiently. There were twigs in his hair and his eyes were wide with excitement.

  “Did you bring Nails with you?” he asked.

  Bea shook her head. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. Tears welled up in her eyes and she felt as though she would choke. “He’s down below,” she said. Theo was smiling from ear to ear. His face was about as dirty as it was possible for a small face to be, and there were large ragged holes in the knees of his trousers. She cleared her throat. “Come on; we have to go.”

  She reached out her hand to Theo, and he jumped down from the branch. She almost expected him to plummet through the leaves, and her heart missed a beat. Instead he bounced toward her across the thick carpet of foliage as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Bea folded him in a big hug.

  He squeezed her back with all his might for a second; then he struggled free. “That’s enough,” he said. “Are we going back to the bus now?”

  “No, but we have to go down quickly,” said Bea. “Phoebe’s in trouble.”

  “Okay,” said Theo; then he hesitated. “I have to say good-bye to the Tree People.”

  “Where are they?” asked Bea. She looked around her and suddenly realized that they were surrounded by thin figures, watching them from among the swaying branches. She could see them from the corners of her eyes, but when she tried to look straight at them she could see only the trees themselves.

  The Tree People were speaking to her. It was as though the wind in the leaves were shaping itself into words. “You have come to take the Barkless Boy?” they asked her.

  “He’s my little brother,” said Bea.

  “It’s about time,” said the Tree People. “We have filled his head up with seeds. If we give him any more he might pop like a ripe fruit.”

  “Don’t you need to…let him go, or something?” asked Bea. Whoever these people were, they had been keeping Theo in a dream. If he just climbed down with her now, would he still be with her when she woke up?

  “You will enter the other world when you go downward,” said the Tree People. “The Barkless Boy will return where he belongs. Tonight there will be honey in the bowl.”

  Theo looked at Bea and made a quizzical face. “They’re always talking like that,” he said in a whisper so loud that all of the Tree People for miles around must have heard him. “I haven’t a clue what they’re on about half the time.”

  Bea shaded her eyes with her hand to take a last look around. She wished she could see the strange figures properly. They were camouflaged like lizards against the branches. Her eyes were becoming used to the light now, and just as she was about to begin descending she noticed in the clear blue sky the faintest trace of a full moon. The curve of one side ghosted above the treetops, and it was pale yellow in color. “Come on,” she said to Theo. “We have to go.”

  There was a fluttering sound, and a large colorful bird half flew, half fell from a higher branch, landing on Theo’s shoulder with a thump and almost falling straight off again. It was an ancient parrot with bedraggled plumage and several bald patches. The parrot cocked his head to one side and squinted at Bea through cloudy eyes. “Where the blazes are you, Trigger?” said the parrot. It sounded like Bontoc’s voice played through a tiny speaker. “Went for a flamin’ swim, didn’t you?”

  “I’m bringing Trigger,” said Theo, looking at Bea defiantly, as though he expected an argument.

  “Fine,” said Bea. “Just come quickly.” She began to clamber back down the way she had come. She wondered why a yellow moon was rising now. Captain Bontoc had said it was not due for three weeks, but the climb needed all of her concentration, and she put the puzzle of the moon to the back of her mind. Now that her eyes were accustomed to the bright light above she could no longer find her footing in the gloom. Her muscles ached and her hands were soon sticky with sap. She looked up to make sure Theo was following her. Her foot slipped and she almost fell. Theo was climbing down carefully, steadying Trigger whenever he had a chance. The ancient parrot seemed in permanent danger of toppling off his shoulder.

  The tree seemed to stretch downward forever, its trunk getting thicker all the time. She came to a fork in the trunk and recognized it as the one where she had been perched while she waited for the Ledbetters to arrive. “I must be awake now,” she said to herself, “otherwise I’d meet myself sitting here in the fork.” She was not sure if this made any sense.

  “Who are you talking to?” said Theo, letting himself down beside her.

  “Nobody,” said Bea. An idea came to her. “Theo, remember I asked you to pinch me and I didn’t feel a thing?”

  Theo looked at her suspiciously. “Ye-es,” he said slowly.

  “Do it again,” she said, and when Theo hesitated she snapped, “Don’t argue!”

  Theo reached out and gripped the flesh of her arm in his small white fingers. He stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and twisted with gusto. It was like being savaged by a pair of deranged pliers. Bea bit her lip and her eyes watered. “Thanks,” she said.

  “Anytime,” said Theo.

  Bea looked out along the path. The evening sun slanted through the trees, and at first she could see nothing in the shadows between the sunbeams. She listened for the hive that had been preparing to swarm. There was buzzing everywhere, and she noticed for the first time that the elm was flowering. The bees from the nearer hive were working all around her, creating a pattern like a giant fuzzy hairnet around the tree.

  As she strained her ears to penetrate the nearby sounds she spotted the lone figure of Phoebe, standing dead still in the dappled shade of the forest path. Mr. Morganfield and Granny Delphine must have retreated to the square already. There was movement among the trees on either side of the path. Pale figures were slipping between the trunks like ghosts. They were moving rapidly toward Phoebe, and had already come closer than they should be. Panic hatched in Bea’s stomach. She saw Maize Ledbetter now, approaching swiftly along the center of the path, muffled up against the bees. Bea tried to repeat the deeper hum of the bees that she was relying on to swarm, but in the urgency of the moment she found it harder than usual to concentrate. She could not hear for sure if she was getting any reaction from the distant hive.

  Theo was looking at her oddly. “What are you humming?” he said.

  “Sssh!” said Bea, putting her finger to her lips.

  “I learned a wind song from the Tree People,” said Theo. “Do you want to hear it?”

  Bea shook her head. The Ledbetters had fanned out in the woods on either side of Phoebe. They were moving to cut her off. Fear spread through Bea like ice water. Maize had come to a halt now, no more than twenty paces from Phoebe. She was staring at her, but Bea could not read her expression from such a distance. She felt her plan rapidly unraveling. “Wait here,” she said urgently to Theo, and she slid from her perch and began to slither and drop from branch to branch.

  “Where are you going?” she heard Theo call.

  “Where the blazes are you?” added Trigger in Bontoc’s voice.

  “Stay put!” she shouted. “I’ll come back for you.” Sweat stung her eyes and the bark of the
tree scraped her legs and arms raw. She landed badly among the elm’s knobbly roots, twisting her ankle. The pain burned like fire. She pulled herself upright, biting hard on her lip.

  As she limped around to the path she heard an enraged squawk from the direction of the falls. “Scheming and trickery!” Maize screeched. She raised a quivering arm and pointed, and her eyes burned with a pale malevolence. On either side her sons and her grandsons closed in on Phoebe, whose disguise looked suddenly foolish and transparent. As Bea watched in horror Maize Ledbetter made a twisting motion with her outstretched hand, and Phoebe dropped instantly to the ground, as though her very soul had been jerked from her body.

  Swarm

  Bea Flint stood on her one good leg, her hand on the rough bark for support and her twisted ankle throbbing with pain. She had awoken from a dream to find herself in a nightmare. The ancient trees leaned in over the path, holding at bay the last of the evening light, and in the cobwebbed darkness she could see the Ledbetters clustering around the lifeless figure of Phoebe. Mutton Ledbetter, a big lumbering man with a limp, hoisted her onto his shoulder like a half-empty sack of feathers.

  Maize Ledbetter stood where she was, her arm still extended. She turned slightly like a squat weather vane and pointed directly at Bea. Her scratchy voice carried along the twilit path. “This one goes in the lake,” she croaked. “She’ll fatten up the fishes nicely, I reckon. We don’t eat children, despite what your friends might say, but we is partial to a nice bit o’ fish. We’ll be coming back for you, girly, when it gets good and dark.”

  Bea was frozen to the spot. It was like being in that tiny room with Ike Ledbetter, but she was not dreaming now. She glanced over her shoulder. In the shadows at the edge of the square she could just see the members of the Quorum. Granny Delphine was there, and Morganfield, who could hear for miles, and Horton, who had lost his niece. They were muttering urgently among themselves, and she knew they must be well aware of what was happening. She felt a fool. Her beginner’s grasp of Mumbo Jumbo had made her so cocky that she had taken on the entire Quorum and promised them she could take on the Ledbetters too. She had let Granny Delphine down, and put Phoebe in mortal danger. She knew that in a moment the Quorum would reach a decision. They would have to act to save Phoebe, and she would forever be the child who made such a mess of things that Bell Hoot’s pacifist ways, already tarnished by the Ledbetters, were lost for good.