Spirits in the Park

by Scott Mebus

  She pushed herself up to a seated position and looked down at her wrist. A new hand waved back at her. But this hand was not paper. Instead, it was rough brown wood, as if someone had carved her a new hand from a fallen branch. A glance at her ankle revealed a foot made of the same wood. She was now part papier-mâché and part chestnut tree. A look at her wrist revealed that Rory’s wampum bracelet had fused itself into the wood.

  “I ruined your bracelet!” she cried. Rory shook his head.

  “Don’t be stupid. It looks better on you anyway. How do you feel?”

  “Better,” she replied, running one fake hand over the other.

  “Then let’s go home,” he said.

  But it was not that easy. Once they reached the barrier, Bridget could not step through. Something prevented her from leaving. And there could only be one explanation.

  “I’m sorry, Bridget,” Soka said, her face stricken. “I did not think of this. Your hand and foot are made from the chestnut tree, bound to you by our magic. Those parts of you cannot leave the park, just as we cannot. So long as you are inside that body, I fear you cannot pass the barrier.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll bring back your real body,” Rory said. “You can put your soul inside and then we’ll both leave.”

  “I’ll stay with Bridget,” Fritz said. “The watch will help you bring back Bridget’s body.”

  “Stay right here,” Rory said to Bridget. “I’ll be right back.”

  “You bet,” she said, smiling gamely. “I’ll be rooted to the spot like a tree.”

  Rory rolled his eyes before running through the entrance out onto the sidewalk, disappearing behind the wall. Bridget turned to see if Soka knew any word games to pass the time, when a new voice broke through.

  “Here they are,” it said. “And as you can see, they are harboring an abomination.”

  Bridget felt a scream catch in her throat as the Munsee with the snake tattoos stepped into the clearing, followed by a large group of Indians and, last of all, Tammand. Soka gasped beside her.

  “I can’t believe you did this, Tammand!”

  Tammand looked away as the Munsee with the snake tattoos stepped forward, reaching out toward Bridget, who cowered beneath his dead gaze.

  “Time to take care of this little demon once and for all.”

  Bridget waited, wincing . . . but nothing happened. Soka was laughing grimly beside her.

  “Stop your chortling, little cousin,” Askook spat at her.

  “I’ve altered her body a bit,” Soka explained belligerently. “You can’t harm her.”

  Askook’s eyes narrowed, making Bridget gulp.

  “Oh, I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Rory had just finished filling in Alexa and Simon on the eastern sidewalk by Central Park when Fritz and Clarence scampered out of a hole in the wall.

  “What are doing here!” Rory said. “You’re supposed to be with Bridget!”

  “That snake Munsee has her,” Fritz said. Rory felt the blood drain from his face. He turned to run back into the park when he felt someone grab his shoulder.

  “Whoa, kiddo,” Simon said, holding him back. “Even I know that isn’t a good idea.”

  “But Bridget . . .”

  “Hear me out,” Fritz said. Rory waited, though inside, his heart was hammering away.

  “What happened?” Alexa asked.

  “There’s a large group of them, led by the snake guy,” Fritz said. “They’re standing around, trying to figure out what to do with Bridget. And if Rory runs in there, he’ll get caught, too.”

  “We’ve got to rescue her!” Rory shouted.

  “Hold on,” Fritz said. “Let me finish. The snake guy tried to do that unraveling trick again, but apparently whatever Soka did with that tree bark made Bridget impervious to his magic spell. They can’t harm her. But they can harm you. We won’t let you do it.”

  “I don’t even know who could go in to rescue her,” Alexa said, clearly frustrated. “We’re stuck out here! And she’s alone.”

  Rory stared at them for a moment, thinking about how scared her sister would be all alone, then turned away to kneel down by Tucket, putting a hand on the dog’s neck.

  “Go find my sister,” he said to the spirit dog. “Protect her.”

  Tucket whined, refusing to even look at the park.

  “I know you don’t like the way it feels when you can’t feel the island,” Rory said. “But you are my spirit dog, and I need you to help me. Please. She needs someone to look after her.”

  Rory and Tucket locked eyes for a moment, and Rory tried to communicate how badly he needed this. Finally, Tucket let out a bark, licking Rory’s face once. Then the dog leaped to his paws and quickly ran across the sidewalk, disappearing through the entranceway to the park. Rory felt his heart lighten just a bit, knowing the dog would be there to protect his sister.

  “That may work out better than you know,” Fritz mused. “Those Munsees haven’t seen a spirit dog in a hundred and fifty years. It might help Bridget to have one on her side. I’ll follow him and see where things stand. Wait here, I’ll be back soon.”

  He raced off into the park. Rory began to pace back and forth while Alexa and Simon watched and waited anxiously.

  An hour passed, with agonizing slowness, before Fritz and Clarence reemerged.

  “She’s okay,” he said, and Rory’s chest relaxed. “They’re not going to harm her.”

  “Did you talk with her?” Rory asked.

  “Yes, and she’s fine,” Fritz answered. “I think this could work to our advantage. Someone needs to follow Abigail’s trail to see what happened to her. I think Bridget will be in the unique position of being able to do just that.”

  “She can’t do it on her own!” Rory cried.

  “She has Tucket, she has her paper body, and I believe she will have Soka’s help. This might be our best shot to track down the Mayor’s daughter.”

  Rory looked like he wanted to argue, but then he deflated.

  “Shouldn’t we at least get her the necklace?” he asked.

  “That’s a funny thing,” Fritz said. “I mentioned the necklace before I slipped away and she said she didn’t want it. She thought we should get the necklace to the one it was intended for, to Abigail’s father. And I think she’s right.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Simon asked.

  “We’ll have to figure that out, won’t we,” Fritz answered. He looked thoughtful. “It was impressive, you know, to see Bridget so calm. She’s really growing up.”

  “We aren’t leaving her with only a dog, though, are we?” Alexa asked.

  “I’ll send in one of the boys from my patrol,” Fritz continued. “She won’t be alone.”

  Rory nodded, barely listening, praying Bridget would be okay. His heart felt so heavy it had fallen into his shoes. In a strange way, he was the one who felt alone now.

  14

  IN THE RAMBLE

  Fritz sat astride Clarence, staring down the tunnel deep underneath the Dyckman Street playground. Just around the bend waited M’Garoth village, his home, as well as his wife, Liv. He wished he could go to her and ask for her help, but he knew she would have to say no. She was charged with the protection of their clan, which she took very seriously. The clan had long ago decided to turn its back on Mannahatta, so Liv must as well. Fritz couldn’t do that, however. Which left him here outside the gates instead of home with the roach he loved.

  “Why can’t they see they can’t hide from what’s coming,” Fritz muttered.

  He heard a sound and he spun to see Hans scampering down the tunnel.

  “They’re morons, boss, most of ’em,” Hans said. “If they’d bother to risk their necks and take a look topside, they’d see everything isn’t happiness and light up there! And when things go bad up there, it always runs down here.”

  Fritz nodded, his heart heavy. Hans took off his helmet and wiped his sweaty face.

  “Do you want to hear my repo
rt?” Hans asked. “It’s interesting.”

  Fritz perked up. “You found something.”

  Hans smiled broadly. “Kiffer and I found something. It wasn’t easy, but we finally caught a break . . .”

  As Hans gave his report, Fritz felt the fire returning. Here was where he was making a difference, he thought. Once Hans finished, Fritz gave his shoulder a pat.

  “Good job, Hans. Good job. Now I have another job for you, if you’ll take it. There’s a little girl all alone among the Munsees except for a dopey dog. Can you help her out?”

  “I’m on it,” Hans replied, saluting. Fritz wished all his fellow roaches could be as open as Hans. As he turned his back on his village to return to his duty, he pushed down the sadness. They’d appreciate him in the end, he knew it.

  Bridget climbed over the rocks, struggling to keep up with the more sure-footed Munsee warriors surrounding her. Askook stayed close by. She really wished she could kick the sour-faced Munsee in the shin, just to get him back for trying to unravel her. But even though the Munsees were treating her with some respect, she could tell they’d have no problem making her pay if she attacked one of their own. Ahead, Bridget spied Soka being led forward by two guards. Tammand walked close by, but every time he tried to speak to her, Soka turned her head, refusing to even look at him. Even though Bridget was steamed at Tammand, she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. He was so obviously hurt by his sister’s anger. Ah well, she thought. Served him right for turning them all over to the enemy, the big poophead.

  The forest seemed to get more dense as they pushed farther into a part of Central Park called the Ramble. Originally built to resemble a wilderness where one could wander along winding, secluded paths, the Ramble had never really appealed to Bridget. Not when she had a real wilderness right by her home in Inwood Hill Park. But even to her unknowing eye, this Ramble seemed to go much deeper than it had any right to. They’d been walking for hours.

  As she stumbled forward, Bridget noticed the Munsees stealing glances at Tucket, padding along happily at her side. They’d been treating the silly pooch with a healthy dose of awe ever since he’d burst into the clearing where Askook’s war party was trying to figure out what to do with her. Tucket had knocked her over to cover her with big, sloppy kisses. When she’d finally gotten the huge dog under control, Bridget realized that the mood of the Munsees around her had definitely changed.

  A whisper had run through the warriors. Spirit dog.

  “Where did he come from?” Askook had demanded, towering over her.

  “Wampage gave him to Rory,” Bridget answered haughtily, not liking his tone. “And I guess Rory sent him to me, because even a great fighter like me needs a friend to keep her company. Tucket likes me better, anyway. Rory doesn’t know how to look after dogs, and he never pets Tucket enough. But I’m like a dog wizard. Tucket always listens to me and gives me kisses and sleeps next to me on my bed and everything. If Mom could see him, then she’d make him get down, but she can’t, so I get a warm puppy to cuddle with all night long. What’s wrong with your face, Mr. Askook? If you keep frowning like that, then you’ll stay that way; it’s scientifically proven.”

  Bridget’s voice rang with bravado, but inside she was terrified. Askook looked like he wanted to eat her alive and it scared her to death. But she wouldn’t let him see it; no, sir.

  At the mention of the name, “Wampage” replaced “spirit dog” on the lips of the Munsees.

  “You know Wampage?” another Munsee asked. “He still goes on beyond the walls of our prison?”

  “He lives up in Inwood, by me,” Bridget said, rubbing Tucket’s belly to keep the dog from jumping on her again. The sight of her treating the dog so familiarly seemed to shock the Munsees, who muttered among themselves at the sight. “He’s pretty mopey all the time, because he misses you guys.”

  “I doubt that,” yet another Munsee said sourly. “Why would he care for those he betrayed?”

  “Wampage never betrayed you!” Bridget was indignant. “He is really depressed by the Trap. He’s been helping Rory try to bring it down!”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Soka cut in, talking to Askook. “You and Tackapausha. But you never listen.”

  Askook stared intently at Bridget, as if he were trying to read her thoughts. She became uncomfortable and looked away. The snake-faced Munsee turned to his men.

  “We will let Tackapausha decide what to do with this foul being,” he said. A few of the Munsees nodded, but even more watched how easily Bridget played with Tucket, and muttered uneasily among themselves. As they set of to the Munsee village, these warriors watched her secretly, trying to decide what to think about this new wrinkle.

  Hours later, they continued to dive deeper into the Ramble. Bridget sniffed. Was something burning in the distance? She spotted smoke rising above the trees as they finally approached a clearing. Gradually, she heard the sounds of a soft flute playing and voices talking and laughing. A moment later, they stepped out of the forest into the Munsee village.

  The clearing stretched out into a circle, much wider than she knew the Ramble could ever hold. This place was a big as a football field, she thought. How could no one know it was there? In the center of the open field stood fifteen or so long, domed buildings of varying sizes set in a rough circle, made of what appeared to be bark hanging from pole frames. A large fire pit sat in the center, unlit. To her left loomed a stone cliff dotted with caves, fires burning in their mouths, sending out the tendrils of smoke Bridget had seen from the forest. Women knelt around the fires, pounding corn and mixing some sort of thick, bubbling soup in pots set over the flames. Men sat among them, chipping at stone arrowheads or carving sticks of wood as they idly chatted. A young man leaned against the cliff, dreamily playing a bone flute, while beside him some younger girls painted animal patterns onto deer-skin clothes. Laughing children ran by, chasing a pair of black crows across the clearing. Older men and women with straight, gray-streaked hair gathered around the domed buildings, talking earnestly among themselves. Squirrels scampered around everyone’s feet like small dogs, and here and there a Munsee petted one affectionately. Most of the men went shirtless, and their faces and bodies bore all manner of tattoos. The women wore simple skirts and tunics, with necklaces of dried fruit or beans hanging around their necks, and their hair fell in braids over their shoulders. There were perhaps a hundred Munsees in sight and they all stopped what they were doing to stare at the scouting party emerging from the trees.

  At first Bridget thought they were all looking at her and she squirmed under the attention. But then she realized that they were fixated on the spirit dog at her feet. The longing on their faces made Bridget’s heart hurt. Tucket barked once, breaking the silence, and bedlam broke out.

  “Peace, friends!” one woman shouted over the din of questions and demands for explanations. She moved toward the party with quiet grace and authority, and behind her the cacophony eventually subsided. Pouches hung from straps slung over both her shoulders, and beautiful feathers were intertwined in her lush silver hair. Askook sneered at her but made no move to stop the silver-haired woman from approaching Bridget and Tucket. She ignored Bridget, however, and knelt down to run a hand along the tawny dog’s soft neck.

  “I know you,” she whispered to the dog. “This is the second time you have gone beyond for those you love. You are truly a great friend.” Tucket barked once, licking the woman happily. She laughed as she rose, turning to face the waiting Munsees of the village.

  “I have seen but one of our beloved dogs since the walls of the Blue Abomination sprang from the earth to trap us here. That was this very dog, sent by Wampage from outside to bring me news not one month ago. Yes, Wampage has stayed true to us, as I have told you many times. Others may lie.” She nodded at Askook, who stared daggers back at her. “But not I. That one of our dogs walks beside this newcomer girl is a sign, indeed.”

  “This girl is an abomination,
Sooleawa,” Askook said, pointing to Bridget. “It matters not what manner of animal accompanies her.” Bridget glanced sharply at Soka and Tammand. So this impressive woman was their mother, the medicine woman. Interestingly enough, even though Soka was the prisoner, it was Tammand who would not look at his mother, staring at his feet while Soka stood proud in captivity.

  “But she brings hope,” Sooleawa continued, undeterred. “When Wampage sent this dog to me, the pup could barely wait to race back out to the world beyond the park, back to where he could feel the land again. But now he stands next to this supposed abomination as docile as can be. Why? Because she brings hope. The tide is turning, friends. The day is coming upon which our exile will end and we will once again feel the land. Did not the very earth shake? Mannahatta searches for us and calls for us to return. We must be ready . . .”

  “We will be ready,” a man said, stepping out of the largest cave. Everyone quieted, even Sooleawa, at his arrival. He stood tall, taller than any other Munsee Bridget could see, and that was saying something. He wore no tattoos on his face or feathers in his long black hair. Only a pair of tanned leggings and a bright belt of beads wrapped around his waist. The belt looked the twin to the Sachem’s belt Rory had taken from Tobais’s bank, but the many colors on this belt put Rory’s plain white one to shame. Bridget had never seen anything so beautiful. The man walked with power, every step demanding to be obeyed, and the Munsees bowed their heads as he passed. Emotions warred across many of their faces: love for the man and fear of what he wanted to do. Bridget recognized him from the necklace: this was Tackapausha.

  “We will be ready, Sooleawa,” Tackapausha said as he approached, “to take our revenge on those who exiled us to this foul land.”

  “No, that will be our end!” Sooleawa insisted.

  “Are we not strong?” the Sachem cried, throwing his arms into the air. “Are we not right? We do not seek to tear down all of Mannahatta. We merely wish to repay the Mayor for all he has done to us. And we merely wish to ask Harry Meester, our friend, to explain why he shot down my son in cold blood, even as he raced back to join his people in exile. We do not bring war. We want only justice. And once this Trap falls, justice will be ours!”