Touch the Sky (Young Underground #8)

by Robert Elmer

  “Nurse, why wasn’t I told of this before?” barked a gray‑haired, muscular‑looking man. He was as tall as Uncle Morten, several years older, and wore a mustache like a silver bar across the middle of his square face. He swept past Peter as he rushed into the exam room where Elise lay.

  “Oh, Dr. Lillelund. She seemed fine this afternoon when I examined her.” The young nurse stammered and looked as if she wanted to hide in the closet. “I didn’t think it was necessary to pull you away from your meetings. She was resting well.”

  The doctor frowned and rolled up his sleeves as Peter and Uncle Morten stood away. At least there was no doubt who was in charge now. The doctor checked Elise’s breathing, then adjusted the valve on top of the green oxygen tank next to the table. Then he looked at Uncle Morten.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Uncle Morten swallowed hard. “The kids were in a canoe around lunchtime. Apparently, she hit her head when the boat was tipped over, and she went down.”

  “But we fished her out,” added Peter. “And she started breathing on her own after a couple of minutes.”

  Henrik was peering in curiously from the hallway.

  “Really?” The doctor raised his eyebrows. “How long was she underwater?”

  “Uh...” Peter tried to remember.

  “I’d say about three minutes at most.” Uncle Morten waved his hand at Elise and shook his head. “It seemed longer, but then she started breathing and insisted she was all right.”

  “Drowning victims don’t always do that,” said the doctor, “but it can happen.”

  Peter didn’t like the way the doctor said the word “victim.”

  Uncle Morten nodded. “She acted almost as if nothing had happened. Your nurse came and looked at her in bed. She seemed fine. But then she collapsed tonight while she was out talking to the boys.”

  “Out talking? What in the world was she doing out talking?”

  “We told her to go back inside,” said Peter.

  The doctor listened again with his own stethoscope, leaning close to Elise, then turned to the nurse. “This girl may have a pulmonary edema. We’ll need some penicillin.”

  “What’s a pulmonary... ?”

  “Edema.” The doctor finished Peter’s question with his hand on Peter’s shoulder. This time his voice sounded much softer than before. “It’s when fluid collects in the lungs. That’s serious, but you’ve done all that you can do now. We’ll take care of things.”

  Peter looked down at his blue‑skinned sister, who was still breathing with difficulty under her mask, and gripped her cold fingers. Her eyes fluttered briefly, as if she were dreaming, and she looked up weakly, but Peter wasn’t sure she really saw him.

  “Come on, Peter.” Uncle Morten put his arm around his nephew. “Let’s get out of the way, and let the doctor do his job.”

  Peter finally nodded and shuffled out to where Henrik and Lisbeth were waiting. The door clicked shut behind them.

  “Morten.” Lisbeth blew her nose. “You need to call your brother back in Helsingør again. They’re going to want to come right away.”

  Uncle Morten crossed his arms and looked at his watch, and the worried look on his face made Peter shiver.

  “Eight‑thirty,” whispered Uncle Morten. “If I call him now, maybe they can still catch a train tonight and be here in the morning.”

  While Morten and Lisbeth disappeared to find a telephone, Peter and Henrik paced the half‑dark waiting room.

  “Are you praying, Peter?” Henrik whispered.

  Peter stopped and stared out a window at the lake and the little city in the distance. There were still a couple of hours of summer daylight left.

  “All the time,” Peter finally answered, closing his eyes.

  Peter awoke to the doctor shaking his shoulder gently.

  “Wake up, son. Your parents are here.”

  “Huh? What time is it?”

  He tried to get up, but his back was as stiff as the hard, wooden waiting‑room chair he had been sleeping in, and his arms felt like a thousand needles were pricking them.

  “Almost nine.” The doctor nodded over at Henrik, who had rolled into a ball in the corner of the waiting room. “There you are, young man. Looks like you have a good hiding place.”

  “What?” Henrik wasn’t quite awake.

  “You and your friend insisted on staying here, remember?”

  Then it all flooded back to Peter. Elise collapsing on the grass. Elise gasping and shaking. Staying up late with Henrik, praying, and waking every few minutes to peek into Elise’s room.

  “My sister. Is she okay?”

  The doctor only held a finger to his lips. The night before, he had come charging into the clinic like a prizefighter. Right now he looked more like Peter’s father on a Saturday morning, with dark lines under his eyes and an unshaved face.

  “She’s in there, sleeping. See that you don’t wake her up.”

  The doctor pointed to a half‑open door down a hallway, and Peter tiptoed through the door to see his parents standing over a small bed.

  “Peter!” whispered his mother. She stepped over to her son and gave him a hug.

  “Mom,” he whispered back. “You’re here already!”

  “Shh.” His father patted him on the back. “We jumped on a train as soon as your uncle called us.”

  “Oh, Dad, I’m really sorry it all turned out like this. I should have—”

  “We heard what happened,” interrupted Mr. Andersen softly. “It wasn’t your fault. No one’s blaming anyone.”

  They stood and watched Elise sleep for a little while longer.

  “You should have seen her last night, Mom,” Peter said as they slipped back out into the lobby. “She looked awful—all blue, especially her hands.”

  “I’m almost glad I didn’t see her,” answered Mrs. Andersen. “She still doesn’t look well right now.”

  “But she is getting better, right?” Henrik stood behind them, rubbing his eyes. He looked as wrinkled as Peter felt.

  Mrs. Andersen stood back and put her arm around Henrik’s shoulder. “The doctor says she’s stable, dear.”

  “Which means?” Henrik looked confused.

  “Which means,” the doctor said, checking his clipboard, “she’s hanging in there. I’d like her to get some rest here at the hospital for at least several days, maybe longer.”

  “We’ll stay here with her,” volunteered Henrik. He looked up at Mrs. Andersen. “Did my mother come with you?”

  Peter’s mother shook her head. “Matthias called from Germany yesterday. It’s taking longer than he expected, and the best he could tell us was that he would try to come for you and your mother sometime around the first of July.”

  Henrik frowned and nodded.

  “She was going to come with us,” continued Mrs. Andersen, “but your mother still has a few things to finish up. She’ll join us at the farm. Aunt Hanne says she’s just glad Elise is all right, and everything is postponed until we get there, if all goes well.”

  If all goes well. Peter closed his eyes and tried to think of anything that had gone well during the past few days. And with all the excitement, he had almost forgotten about Matthias, Palestine, Mr. Broken Nose, and Henrik moving away. As he stood there thinking, something crashed to the floor with a clatter in Elise’s room.

  14

  Unwelcome Visitor

  “What was that?” Peter cried, bolting for the door of his sister’s room. He was the first to see Elise sitting on the cold tile floor next to her bed, a dazed look on her face. The oxygen mask was ripped off and hanging around her neck, and she pulled her robe close to her in confusion.

  “Elise!” Peter’s mother rushed up to her daughter. “Elise, what happened?”

  Elise looked wide‑eyed at the collection of faces in her room, all staring back at her. Peter and Henrik. Mrs. Andersen. Mr. Andersen. A nurse, a different one from the day before, rushed in.

  “Where am I?�
� squeaked Elise, but it was all she could manage before launching into an uncontrollable cough.

  “You’re in the Silkeborg clinic, young lady,” said the nurse, sweeping into position next to Elise. “But I hope you don’t roll out of bed like this at home.”

  In one swift movement, she and Mrs. Andersen helped Elise to her feet, then back into the bed.

  “Don’t try to talk now,” ordered the nurse, a small, round woman who somehow seemed to have lifted Elise almost single‑handedly into the bed. “Let’s just get this mask back on.”

  Elise nodded meekly and let the nurse adjust her mask. The doctor poked his head into the room.

  “Any trouble here?”

  “No, Dr. Lillelund.” The nurse adjusted Elise’s blankets. “Just a sleepwalker.”

  “I see,” replied the doctor. He motioned for Mr. Andersen to follow him. “Mr. and Mrs. Andersen, if I could speak to you for a moment.”

  Peter’s parents got up to follow the doctor, and the nurse left the room, too.

  “You just rest, Elise,” Mrs. Andersen said as she stepped out. “We’ll be right back.”

  With just Peter and Henrik in the room, Elise closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to relax, then suddenly stiffened and stared straight at Peter. She made a noise and pointed to the foot of the bed where Peter stood.

  “What?” Peter couldn’t understand a word, but Elise continued to point.

  “The nurse said you shouldn’t try to talk, Elise,” warned Henrik. “If you take off that mask, you’ll start coughing.”

  “Yeah, Elise,” agreed Peter. “You’re worse than I am. You really need to relax.”

  But Elise only sat up straight and gestured even more wildly. Henrik looked around the room, walked over to a clipboard hanging from another bed, and handed it to Elise.

  “Here,” he told her. “You’re going to have to write it down.”

  Elise took the pencil Peter gave her and scribbled a few words at the top of the paper.

  “You saw him?” Peter came closer and looked over her shoulder. “Who are you talking about?”

  Elise pointed again at the foot of the bed and wrote quickly.

  “ ‘He... was... standing...’ ” Peter read, “ ‘right... there.’ ”

  “Elise, you have to tell us what you mean,” said Henrik.

  Before Peter could stop her, Elise had pulled off her oxygen mask. “The man with the broken nose,” she rasped, still pointing. “I woke up, and he was standing right there.” She coughed but continued. “Just... just staring at me.”

  “Here, put that back on,” ordered Peter. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

  Elise threw her head back against the pillow but let the mask snap back into place.

  “When did you see him?” Henrik asked. “We were here all night.”

  “Yeah, sleeping,” added Peter.

  Elise took up the clipboard again and scribbled furiously.

  “ ‘Last night...’ ” Peter read.

  “What time?” Henrik asked.

  Elise shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

  “Are you sure it was him?” Peter asked.

  His sister only gave him an exasperated look, and Peter took a step back from the bed.

  “I was just thinking it might have been a dream,” he explained to Henrik. “You know how—”

  “No!”

  Peter could understand the word even from behind Elise’s oxygen mask.

  “Okay, okay,” Peter said. “I believe you. But if it wasn’t a dream, where did this fellow go? And why did he just come here, stare at you in the middle of the night, and leave? This is really getting strange. I mean, what was he looking for?”

  “I’ll bet he was looking for me,” Henrik said. He stared out the window, his back to Peter and Elise.

  “Oh, come on, Henrik. You’re being way too dramatic now.” But Peter didn’t believe his own words.

  “You know I’m not,” replied Henrik quietly. “He’s following us to find Matthias.”

  15

  The Journey Continues

  “Slow down, Henrik!” But Elise giggled as the boys wheeled her down the short hospital corridor in her wheelchair.

  “Oh, come on, Elise.” Henrik looked up and down the empty hallway. “It’s Sunday night. After a week in the hospital, I think you’re ready to roll.”

  “I feel better, but I’m not ready to run around the city yet, the way you two have been doing.”

  “Yeah,” said Peter, “I think we’ve explored every last street of Silkeborg while you’ve been here.”

  “One good thing.” Elise looked up at the boys. “You haven’t seen that awful man again.”

  Elise was right. Ever since they had taken Elise to the hospital the Monday night before, he and Henrik had watched for Mr. Broken Nose.

  “Except for the time when you thought you saw him....” began Henrik.

  “I saw him,” Elise defended herself.

  “Okay, except for that time, nothing.”

  “Not even his car,” added Peter. “I’m not sure if that makes me relieved or more worried.”

  “So you think you’re ready to come with us to the farm tomorrow?” Henrik changed the subject.

  “I told you I’m feeling much better. Even the doctors say so this time. I was fine for the church service this morning, and I’m feeling much stronger now....”

  As they continued down the hallway, Peter let his mind wander, and he thought back to the church service they had held in the hospital lobby. It was Henrik’s idea. How had his friend changed so much? Henrik had invited people to come out of their rooms, wheeling them out in their chairs, just like he was wheeling Elise now.

  It was definitely not the old Henrik; Peter was sure of that much. He still couldn’t figure how Henrik got the nerve to stand up and read the Bible in front of everyone. As Henrik had excitedly read about how Jesus was baptized and the Spirit of God came down on Him, Peter had thought Henrik was going to suggest they all march down to the lake and get baptized right away.

  “What did you say, Peter?” Elise looked up at her brother with a puzzled look.

  Peter shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What?”

  “You’re talking to yourself again, old man.” Henrik grinned and turned Elise around a corner, toward her room. “Maybe you’re the one who should wear the oxygen mask and get all those medicines.”

  “No thanks. The doctor said people have died from what Elise had.”

  “No more, guys.” Elise held up her hand for Henrik to stop, then stretched her legs and stood up.

  “Elise—” Peter tried to object, but his sister only brushed him off. She swayed for a moment, put out her hands for balance, and took a couple of unsteady steps.

  “See? I can walk fine. So no more wheelchairs, and no more talk about me almost dying. Tomorrow we’re going to the farm, no matter what!”

  “Cheer up, Henrik,” Peter said, looking out the window of their train car. “We’re almost to the farm.”

  Peter looked over at his friend, who was staring glumly at the man sitting in the next row. Henrik looked as if he could use a little cheering up.

  “Just think,” Peter went on. “When you make it to Palestine, you’ll get to see all those famous Bible places.”

  Elise looked up from her drawing and shook her head slightly at her brother. He saw her but didn’t get the message.

  “Like the Garden of Gethsemane,” he continued, “and the Jordan River, maybe even Bethlehem. You can pretend you’re back in time—”

  “Peter,” Elise finally interrupted, “I don’t think Henrik wants to think about traveling right now.”

  Peter followed the direction she pointed with her pencil to see a man buried behind a large newspaper. On the front page, a big headline screamed out the news that a bomb had gone off in Jerusalem, killing a number of people. Only then did he understand what Henrik had been staring at, and why Elise had been trying to get him to b
e quiet.

  “Oh,” he stammered, trying to think of something better to say. “I see....”

  “Forget it, Peter.” Henrik stood up and leaned out the window of the train. “But I was thinking.”

  “What?” Peter joined his friend at the window.

  “You think there’s any way Mr. Broken Nose could still be following us? Or even waiting for us at the train station?”

  Peter cupped his hands together like a telescope and looked up ahead. Beyond a cluster of beech trees and a yellow field with a tractor in the middle, he could see the train station and a church steeple. The train gave a jerk as they slowed down, and Peter pulled Henrik back down to his seat.

  “How would he know where we’re going?” Peter asked. He tried his best to mask his own worry. “Besides, I don’t see anyone through my telescope.”

  “I was being serious,” complained Henrik.

  “Well, the only person I think will be waiting for us will be Pastor Kai. He said he was coming to pick us up in his new car. And we haven’t seen Mr. Broken Nose for a long time, remember?”

  “You boys ready?” Uncle Morten folded up his newspaper and looked across the aisle to where they were sitting. “Are you still doing okay, Elise?”

  Elise smiled and pulled her backpack from under her seat. “I walked all the way to the train station, didn’t I?” Elise held out her arms, took a deep breath, and smiled to prove how well she felt.

  “Okay, we believe you’re getting better,” Mr. Andersen said, getting to his feet. “But you’re still going to go see another doctor when we get home to Helsingør.”

  The train hadn’t yet stopped, though, and Mr. Andersen was jolted back into his wife’s lap.

  “Oksbøl Station,” said a man walking down the aisle of the train.

  Peter’s father cleared his throat as he stood up. “Now, you kids know the plan. Morten and Lisbeth, Elise and her mom will ride with Pastor Kai back to the farm this first time.”

  Uncle Morten nodded and saluted at his brother. “Under control.”