A Walk Through a Window

by kc dyer

  She didn’t really have time to endure the pain, though, as the floor tipped again, this time the other way. Darby managed to turn herself right way up, but she still slid along, tangled in nets and feeling every splinter from the rough floorboards on her bare shins. A rope hanging loose from the rafters slapped her in the face and she grabbed it and clung on.

  This turned out to be a good kind of accident, because when Darby looked up, she could see the rope hung from some kind of cleat in the low wooden ceiling. It meant she could plant her feet and hold on without slipping too much as the floor pitched from side to side.

  Why was the floor pitching, anyway? And why was she alone, dangling from the rope, in some closed-up wooden room that looked nothing like the little broken-down chapel behind the old blue house? She didn’t have a clue. What she did know was that, once again, Gabe had disappeared.

  Darby wasn’t sure how long she spent dangling and pitching, but it was long enough to leave her arms very tired. It was also long enough to figure out a few things, only one of which was really important for the moment.

  This was no hallucination. She knew pain when she felt it, and her right shin really hurt. And while Darby had her share of crazy dreams in her life, this was not one of them. She clung to the rope and counted the reasons out loud.

  “One: Dreams don’t have splinters.” The floor pitched sideways again and water washed up over her shoes.

  “Two: Shoes do not get soaked in dreams.” Well, unless you counted that unfortunate time when she was four and mistook her mother’s closet for the bathroom in the middle of the night. But hey, she was a little kid.

  The floor seemed to be settling down, so she risked letting go with one hand to give her shoulder a bit of a rest on that side. Luckily, Darby had been riding the subway since she was small, so her shoulders and arms were almost used to his kind of abuse. She had just switched sides when the door flew open with a crash of iron and a splash of more water. Darby jumped and let go of the rope entirely, retreating until she could feel a solid wall at her back.

  A man with black eyes that looked ready to pop out of his brilliant red face bodily flung another fairly small man onto the floor right at her feet.

  “Ye’ll stay in ’ere until I can bear to lay eyes on you again, ye filthy Mick bastard,” he spat.

  The smaller man at Darby’s feet just curled in a ball, and a good thing, too, as he was given several angry kicks by Bulging Eyes.

  She flattened herself against the wall and waited for the anger to fall upon her next, but neither man took any notice.

  “The next time ye steal from the food stores, ye bloody thievin’ wretch, it’ll be the fishes ‘oo gets fed. Not that there’s much meat on those pestilential bones o’ yers.” With a last kick—one that actually missed—Bulging Eyes stomped out of the room and slammed the door so hard Darby’s ears rang. The sound of an iron bolt closing with a crash immediately followed.

  She stood frozen to the spot. If the man at her feet wasn’t dead, he must be close. But just as she bent over to check, he uncurled with a groan. Darby could see he had dirty black hair that might have been curly if it hadn’t been so matted. Over it, he wore a soft, mashed-up hat that slipped off as he rolled onto his back. And she couldn’t take her eyes off a trickle of blood that ran from the corner of his nose along the line of his jaw.

  Before she had time to think, he opened his eyes and looked straight at her. “I’m not dead, in case that is your hope,” he said.

  The face was plenty dirty, but Darby would have recognized those blue eyes anywhere.

  “Gabe!”

  “The same,” he said, rolling to one side with a wince.

  Darby dropped to the floor. “You’re hurt!”

  “The brilliance of you this morning outshines the very sun,” he said, and made it over onto his knees with another groan.

  His voice sounded strange, but Darby didn’t really take the time to think about it. She stuffed her hand into the pocket of her shorts and pulled out the tissue that Nan had given her earlier.

  “It’s clean, at least,” she said, and reached over to wipe the blood away from his nose. “You look like somebody who lives in a garbage can.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Thank you, but that will not help just now.”

  “Don’t be so stubborn, Gabe,” Darby said, and took another swipe at the blood on his face. This time he just sat still, gazing at her patiently. She couldn’t get the blood to budge.

  “That’s so odd,” she said slowly, looking from the clean tissue to the fresh, wet blood on his face.

  Gabe reached up, grasped her wrist and gently pushed her hand away.

  “I think we have a few moments,” he said, and slid over to lean against a wall. “Now that we are out of the open ocean, the captain will be very busy for a while. Too busy to return to a problem thief in his brig for a few moments, if all goes well.”

  It was hard to take it all in, and Darby could make sense of only about one word in three. The one that stuck in her head for the moment was “ocean,” but only because she had been hoping she was wrong.

  Careful of the splintery floor, she slid herself back against the wall to sit beside Gabe. He took the opportunity to swipe at the blood on his face with one of his filthy sleeves, which only served to smear it. This did not add to his allure.

  “Our time together is likely short,” he said in a low voice. “And there are a few things you must know.”

  “How did we suddenly go from ‘I’ll stay by your side’ to ‘our time is likely to be short’? And why are you talking with that funny accent, anyway?”

  He lifted a hand warningly. “Now, Darby Christopher, I know how much the sound of your own words pleases you, but just try to keep them inside your mouth a moment or two more.”

  “But I don’t get any of this,” she said. “I don’t have a clue where to start.”

  “I know it to be true,” he said softly. “And you can ask all you like, but there’s only so much time for the answering.”

  This made no sense at all, but Darby reluctantly agreed. She’d listen first, and then it would be her turn. But she couldn’t resist a single question.

  “This is like the last time, isn’t it? It’s a different place, but the feeling is the same.”

  He nodded. “There is much you must know,” he said insistently.

  She hugged herself tightly and tucked her fingers under her arms. “It’s the same cold that I remember,” she said. “I’m so cold.”

  “I am sorry,” he said. “For it is part of the price paid.”

  “Price? What are you talking about?”

  He muttered something, but Darby couldn’t hear him over the sound of voices. Voices outside the door, growing louder and angrier by the minute.

  “I fear the captain returns,” said Gabe, and he actually did look scared. “I knew our time together might not suffice. Listen carefully, Darby. You are not of this time, but that does not mean you are safe from its reaches. If you are lost here, then lost you will stay. You must …”

  The door flew open and a giant stepped inside.

  Okay, so maybe he’s not an actual giant, thought Darby, but he’s one big guy. The man was seven or eight inches more than six feet tall, and he looked even larger, slumped over in the low-ceilinged room. Tiny beady eyes that were too close together under a single black eyebrow gave him a Cyclops look. Behind the giant was Captain Bulging Eyes. His eyes were bugging out a little less than they had been earlier, but he had a nasty grin on his face that Darby didn’t like the look of at all.

  “ ’Ere ’e is, Alec. The one who’s been stealing your dinner.”

  Alec didn’t say a word. He just picked up Gabe by his collar and dangled him effortlessly, toes just above the plank floor. Gabe squeaked and the captain’s grin broadened. “What shall we do wif’ the nasty little thievin’ boy from the bogs, Alec?”

  Alec’s expression didn’t change. “Throw him over, Cap’n?�
� he said in a strangely nasal voice.

  The captain strode across the room until he stood right in front of Darby. “My very thought, Alec. ’Ow clever of you to read my mind.” He paused for a moment, and then sniffed the air. Darby backed up as tightly as she could to the wall.

  The captain sneered at Gabe. “Ye smell like a woman, ye thievin’ cur. ’Ave you stolen the scent from one of the poor wretches below, or perhaps just ’er purse?” He turned to the giant. “Shake the little rat, Alec, and see what comes of it.”

  Alec did what he was told and poor Gabe was joggled until his teeth rattled together. But nothing fell out of his pockets except a small wooden comb that he had clearly not been using recently.

  Alec threw Gabe down on the floor in a heap.

  “No purse, then. Yer luck is wif’ ye this time, boy,” said the captain. “But I don’t trust ye as far as I can throw you. I’d put ye down below with the others if ye weren’t one of the few still strong enough to stand. So it’s here ye’ll stay until I decide what to do wif’ ye.”

  “I cannot stay strong for long with this rough handling and poor food,” said Gabe as he rolled onto his knees.

  The captain jerked his head and Alec slapped Gabe back down to the floor.

  Darby gasped out loud. She couldn’t help it. She’d never seen a grown-up hit a kid like that before. It was sickening.

  “The food is for the crew, ye wee rat, and you are to get no more than is doled out,” snarled the captain. “I need every one of me crew hale and strong to get out of this place.” He slapped a hand against the open door. “No amount of coin is worth these losses.”

  He turned again to the giant. “Pick up that sorry mess, Alec. I’ve sails that need mending. He can work off the price of the food ’e stole.”

  Alec hauled Gabe up by one shoulder and headed for the door. Gabe caught his hand around the doorframe for a moment and looked straight back in at Darby.

  “If I had no chains on me, I’d wander the ship and try to pick up some news,” he said clearly.

  The captain had stopped to wrap the bit of dangling rope Darby had been clinging to around some loose pieces of sacking that were stored above her head. A strange noise rumbled up from his chest. She realized he was laughing.

  “Y’ really are a madman,” he said to Gabe. “Talking aloud to y’self are ye now?”

  Gabe didn’t take his eyes off Darby. “It is true, sometimes I talk to myself. Is this not something all folk do from time to time?” he said. “I’m only saying, that since I will be on the deck repairing sails for you, Mr. Captain, sir, I will not have the chance to wander free around to hear and see all that is happening on the ship, much as I would like to.”

  “Ah—I knew ye for an idiot the first time I laid eyes on ye,” the captain growled. “Ye picked the wrong vessel to sneak aboard, and ye’ll earn yer passage like the rest.” Alec grabbed Gabriel firmly by one ear. And in case that wasn’t enough, he twisted Gabe’s arm behind his back until he winced, and then frog-marched him to the door.

  The door slammed behind them so hard that it bounced open and didn’t latch. Darby sank back down onto the floor and tried to gather her thoughts.

  So.

  Here she was again. Or more to the point—here she wasn’t. She wasn’t at home anymore. She wasn’t in her own time and she wasn’t even sure she was in her right mind.

  But.

  She also wasn’t scared. Not really. For one thing, there was very little chance that a polar bear would be chasing her anytime soon. Just the thought of it brought a quiet laugh to her lips.

  Darby had handled a lot this summer. She’d been yarded out of her regular life, dumped by her parents with a crazy grandfather, and found out that not everything she’d grown to believe was really what it seemed. The polar bear was the clincher, though.

  She still didn’t know if that thing had really been chasing her or if it was just a phantom product of one killer of a headache. But if Gabe wanted her to have an open mind, he could rest assured now—her mind was open. She was desperate to find out more.

  It made her feel better that she was not alone. Gabe might not be right at her side, but at least she knew roughly where he could be found: on deck, mending sails under Alec’s watchful eye, no doubt.

  He had risked another smack on the head to tell Darby to get out of this strange little room, have a look around and learn something.

  So that’s what she did.

  Darby put her eye to the crack of the open door. Peeking out, she discovered the room was at the foot of a short flight of stairs leading up to an open deck of the ship. No one was in sight, so she crept up the stairs and peered over the top.

  It seemed a large ship. The biggest boat she had ever been on was the Wolfe Island ferry in Lake Ontario, and this one was bigger than that by far. However, it was not in very good shape. The decks were made out of rough timber, and like the little room below, no one had taken the trouble to sand off the splinters and rough spots. There was a huge, rusty pile of chain attached to an old anchor nearby and several heaps of wood scraps were strewn all over.

  The place was a mess and it stank.

  It was a strange combination of smells: dead fish, woodchips, and something else that reminded her of hydro poles. Creosote, maybe—or tar? A little fresh air would be nice.

  Darby took a chance and climbed another step to get away from the smell and to gain a better view. From her new vantage point, it looked like she was at the back of the ship. Most of the action appeared to be happening up at the front, for the moment, so it was pretty quiet where she stood. She took a moment just to breathe in a big gulp of the air—so fresh after the stale stench of the little room below. The sky was blue and the sun was shining almost right above.

  A gull flew over her head with a raucous cry. His shadow blocked the sun from Darby’s face for a moment—and gave her another thought. She raised her hand over the brightest part of the deck.

  No shadow.

  This convinced Darby more than anything had so far. Even more than the polar bear. Because, after all, no one ever gets eaten by a polar bear while asleep. At the time, she had considered the possibility of being deep in a dream. But this was just too clear. She couldn’t walk through walls. But she also didn’t leave footprints in the snow or cast a shadow in the brightest of sunlight.

  Something clicked into place in Darby’s brain so surely she could almost hear it. The answer was so simple; she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before.

  She was a ghost from another time.

  Strangely enough, the first thing this reminded Darby of was an old book on the Inuit she had found at the library. Inside the front page was a photograph. At the time, she’d figured the book publishers wanted to protect the picture, because they had inserted a really fine piece of paper over it. The librarian had called it onionskin. She felt like that onionskin. Thinner than paper, she fit between the centuries like she wasn’t even there.

  But of course she was there. And since she wasn’t really ready to examine the whole onionskin/ghost thing too much, maybe it was time to quit thinking and start looking around. Why not? It’s what Gabe had suggested, after all. The captain and his big goon hadn’t seen her. She cast no shadow. That should mean she was free to roam around where she liked. Only one way to test out the theory, of course.

  She decided to try it.

  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but when Darby stood on deck she could see where the surface of the water was all stirred up. To one side of the ship lay a dark line on the horizon. She wondered if it could be land.

  But in order to find out which land in particular, she needed to do some investigating. Darby started by turning slowly in a circle, checking out everything within her range of vision. The ship was huge, with two big masts and square sails. There appeared to be some other small sail rigged to the front, though she couldn’t see it clearly from where she stood. The deck was very broad, and there seemed to be at least
two or three levels open to the air.

  For a sunny day on such a big boat there was hardly anyone around. What she really needed was to find a quiet place to plant herself beside a group of chatty sailors. She snuck around to one side of the ship, but the only sailor she could see nearby was a man who was slowly climbing up the rigging near one of the big white sails, puffed full of wind and straining against the ropes holding it in place. Unlike Gabe, the sailor didn’t seem to be talking to himself, and Darby wasn’t about to risk her neck by climbing up there after him, anyway. She carried on with her careful tour.

  Following a little further around one side of the deck, the wind dropped away, protected by the middle part of the ship. Darby almost tripped over a young couple, taking shelter in a corner between a pair of old barrels jammed up against the side rails. She pushed herself back against the wall, chiding herself for making such an unobservant ghost.

  The couple had been hard to see because they had wrapped themselves in an old wool blanket, threadbare to the point of having huge holes all over it. The blanket was grey with grime and it looked like it might even be damp. Not the greatest protection from the elements.

  When she crept up beside their little shelter, Darby could see they had the blanket rigged to stop the breeze from ruffling some paper the man was balancing on his knees. He held the paper with one hand, and the woman’s head was pressed very close to his own as they sat on the deck. She had her hand on his arm.

  “Pádraig, you know how important this is. It is too late for us now, but they must know the truth.”

  At the sound of her words, Darby knew at once why Gabe’s voice had sounded so different. With everything else that was going on, she hadn’t been able to pinpoint it, but it all came clear with the sound of this woman’s voice. Gabe’s accent had changed. All the French intonations were gone and now he sounded like this lady, and this man.