Button Hill

by Michael Bradford

  The old woman looked at him sadly. “Sounds like you do need help, dear.” She was glowing more brightly now, and light was starting to pool above her head. “But I’m going, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

  Dekker swallowed. “Take me with you. Please?”

  Mrs. Conquergood gave him a puzzled look. “How?”

  “I have no idea. You’re supposed to attach yourself to me somehow with a tether. The gravedigger said to watch for the light.”

  She looked into his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t see any light in you.”

  Dekker sighed in frustration. “He meant your light—it’s all around you, there, above your head.”

  The light was getting bigger and brighter, and her voice came out of it and filled the crowded space. “I just don’t see how. Oh, dear, I’m sorry. It’s my first time, you know.”

  Dekker closed his eyes, reaching for memories. He thought of his sister, somewhere ahead of him. He thought of his mom, somewhere behind. He thought of Harper, who was somehow everywhere.

  Mrs. Conquergood was still in his head but farther away now. “Oh! There it is. It flickers like a candle. Just a minute now, dear. Can you feel that?”

  He felt something tug hard against his breastbone, and when he opened his eyes he saw a tail of Mrs. Conquergood’s opal light disappearing into the spot where his heart used to be.

  “It hurts, but it’s okay. I think you did it,” he said.

  Her voice sounded far away, as if she were drifting on a breeze. “Here I go then. Wish us luck.”

  A whistle like a boiling kettle pierced the air, and Mrs. Conquergood’s light dropped through the bottom of the coffin. The tether pulled him down against the bottom of the casket like a fish on a line. Everything seemed to go sideways—the casket twisted, and Dekker felt himself squeezed through a narrow tube. The whistle grew into a shriek, and then the tube was suddenly just…gone. For an instant he was weightless, and a feeling of happiness rushed through him. Then Mrs. Conquergood’s tether yanked him down—hard.

  “Get ready, dear. I think we have a bit of a drop coming up,” said Mrs. Conquergood’s voice inside his head. Dekker closed his eyes, and the bottom dropped out of everything. They were hurtling down at an impossible pace.

  They fell for so long, Dekker lost the sensation of falling. It felt like an hour or more. After a long time, he noticed the faint outline of his fingers and, as if someone was slowly turning the volume back up, wind began to whistle past his ears. For a sickening moment he thought he had been cut loose from his guide, but the slack in his tether went taut, and he hung below the clear ball of light like an anchor. Below him he saw the train tracks in Nightside that he and Riley had followed away from the gorge.

  Mrs. Conquergood plummeted down the line of the hill and over the edge of the cliff. She barreled down the smooth wall of the gorge, and he was falling again for a moment before the line snapped tight once more. “Wheee!” she called in delight.

  The wind turned into the muttering of hundreds of voices in his ears, and as they flew deeper into the darkness he could see other blue flashes speeding past them. The far side was lost in shadow, but something was glowing faintly white below them. It seemed to break into little pieces as they got closer, and Dekker noticed it pulsing forward and back, like waves.

  Dekker gasped as he realized the whiteness beneath wasn’t water, but an ocean of bones that filled the bottom of the gorge. “Slow down!” he cried.

  “I can’t. It’s as if a magnet is pulling me. I haven’t felt this good in ages!”

  Just before their ball of light struck the bones, it wheeled and flew across the surface. But Dekker’s momentum carried him into the churning mass. White shards flew up around him, and he groaned with the shock of the impact. His body was dragged through the tangle of skulls and ribs and legs.

  “Oh dear,” said Mrs. Conquergood.

  The bones grabbed at Dekker’s clothes and pulled him down. His skin ripped and tore against the churning bits of bone. Desperately he yanked on the tether. For a moment nothing happened, and then he sprang up and out of the sea of bones. Mrs. Conquergood was all light now, stretched flat, skimming the surface of the bone sea. He dragged himself onto her shining form. Inches below, the bone sea roiled.

  They rose as a bone swell grew beneath them. Mrs. Conquergood’s light began to sparkle. “Now’s your chance to try something amazing, young man.”

  “What?”

  “Stand up, and ride this wave into shore.”

  “But I’ve never even been to the ocean before!”

  “Oh, I don’t think you have a choice. I can’t keep you up if we slow down even a teensy bit. On your feet, dear.”

  Dekker grabbed the edges of the light as if it were a surfboard and pushed himself up. His legs trembled as he rose into a wide-legged sideways stance. The wave thrust upward into a peak, and they gained momentum. For one exhilarating instant, Dekker felt a cold wind on his face and the steady click of bones rolling beneath his feet.

  “Look at you, young man. I believe this is what beach kids call hanging ten,” cried Mrs. Conquergood.

  Ahead, another bone wave spasmed violently. Dekker’s throat grew tight. Bones were everywhere—above, below and behind him. The rattle became thunder as bones curled over them, catching them in the barrel of the wave. Dekker could see an opening at the far end, but the barrel was already beginning to narrow, and something struck Dekker on the arm as the wave began to break apart. “Hurry!” he screamed. “It’s collapsing!”

  He crouched, and Mrs. Conquergood flew through the swirling tunnel, a streak of light. The wave bent into an impossible shape, and the air rained digits and collarbones and kneecaps as it collapsed. Mrs. Conquergood flipped end over end, and Dekker fell into the bone sea. He was forced deeper, battered from every side. His body slammed into something unyielding.

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” said Mrs. Conquergood’s voice from far away. The last of the light went out, and he knew no more.

  Sixteen

  Dekker floated in an oily cloud. He couldn’t hear anything, but the stench of sour milk was overwhelming. His thoughts were murky, out of reach. He knew he was searching for something…but what? The powerful feeling came over him that he should just keep his eyes shut and it would all be over. Wouldn’t that be a relief? He breathed in the fetid air around him. Just for a second, he caught a whiff of licorice and smoke. It startled him, the scent. Where do I know that smell from? Wait! I had a sister. What was her name? As he tried to remember, a scratching sound cut through the nothingness: stone dragged across stone.

  Something jabbed into his backbone, sharp and insistent. The pain reminded him he had a body, and as he remembered, pain spread from his back to his arms and legs. The scraping sound started again. He opened his eyes and looked up.

  The moon was a sickle blade hanging in a colorless sky. His arms were crossed on his chest. He tried to roll over; something pinched his shoulder and dragged him back down. He arched his neck. He saw white sand passing slowly beneath him.

  He was on a beach. The sound of bones clattered softly against the shore. Something’s dragging me away. He lifted a leg and looked at what had pinched him. The bottoms of his pants were crawling with crablike creatures that looked like they were made of bone. He felt the sand ripple under his back. He clawed at the sand on either side of him, but the ground was covered in a wave of the creatures that extended far beyond his reach. They were pulling him farther inland.

  Dekker burned with anger. There’s no way I got this far just to be eaten. The feeling grew until it was white-hot. He yelled and twisted wildly to the side. He raked at the creatures with his hands. Some flew across the sand. Others snapped their claws defensively and scuttled away, back toward the shore. He lunged and grabbed one in his hand. He snarled and ripped it in half. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the white-hot feeling drained away, and he realized what he had done. He stood up, wiping his mouth on the back of h
is hand. I never felt that angry before. What’s happening to me?

  Miraculously, the leather bag containing The Book of Night and Day had stayed strapped to his chest and shoulder. There was no trace of Mrs. Conquergood’s tether. So much for getting back that way. His clothes were torn to shreds. As he examined his shirt and pants, he saw that his skin had come away in several places. The itchy spot on his arm had been peeled down to the bone. His left kneecap poked through a rip in his jeans, and he felt sure the rib that had been jabbing his insides was his own, though he could not tell without a mirror. The fingertips on the hand he had used to catch the bone crab were stripped down to nothing. At least it doesn’t hurt. Actually, now that he thought about it, he felt better than he had in a long time. Gone was the sense of decay that had come over him in the past weeks. I wonder if that’s good or bad.

  Across a small barren plain stood a city that climbed the base of a vast mountain. Even from this distance, Dekker could see its oddness. The tall towers and buildings were honeycombed into the side of the mountain and piled one upon the other, and their walls tilted crazily, as if they were fighting to reach the dark sky above. A set of train tracks nearby ran straight out of the bone sea and led through the bones and stones of the plain toward the city walls. He watched the legion of skeletal crabs click and scrape beside him, dragging their load of ribs and foot bones and skulls back and forth across the sand. Dekker followed the moving carpet away from the shore.

  The sight of the great gray city filled Dekker with a sense of dread. But he thought of Riley lost somewhere on the narrow, shadowed streets that must run between the sloping buildings, and he hurried along the tracks toward the city. I never thought it would be so big. How am I ever going to find her? Riley. My sister’s name is Riley. He felt a tingle of fear run down his spine.

  He felt them before he heard them: vibrations in the air, starting tiny, then growing until they made his teeth shiver. Dekker looked back at the bone sea. It seemed to be receding rapidly from the shore, as if a giant had taken a breath and sucked it back. A train whistle wailed, and a quick stuttering squeal filled the air. Dekker scanned the tracks but saw nothing. Then he looked up and saw it. A sleek silver engine hauling a line of passenger cars plummeted down an impossibly steep track from high above at incredible speed. Its headlight beam cut through the night, and a thunderclap exploded across the sand as it dove under the surface of the sea of bones. An enormous wave rose up and crashed against the shore, and for a moment the train was lost from sight. Then the engine burst out of the bones and onto the tracks. It slowed to a crawl as it left the beach and began to cross the plain toward Dekker. He glanced at the passing cars. Gaunt passengers filled every berth.

  As the last car went by, Dekker noticed a skeletal conductor who stood on the rear observation platform. “Hey!” he shouted as he ran to catch up.

  The conductor reached out a long bony hand toward Dekker. He grabbed it and was swung up onto the rear of the car. He looked into eye sockets still full of silver stubs. “I don’t have a ticket,” said Dekker.

  The skeleton took Dekker’s hand and tapped a dry finger bone against the half-skull that marked his palm. “It seems you are in need of assistance, brother.” He leaned out over the rail and pointed toward the approaching city. “We will arrive shortly. Understory has been a stopping place for the dead for many years, but take care. Once you pass its walls, you will not find it an easy place to depart from.”

  “Can’t I just take the train back?”

  The conductor shook his head sadly. “You will see.”

  Dekker knew little about Understory, and he felt a sense of mystery and excitement as the train approached the city walls, a sense of something beyond his old life. And much more freedom than in Button Hill.

  But that feeling of mystery and excitement was tied to a dread he couldn’t ignore, a dread of what might be happening to his sister…what might have already happened.

  The train entered the city and pulled into a grand old station. Its roof arched steeply up into a high dome, but the ceiling was obscured by blue balls of light crammed together like balloons in the space above. All along the train, doors hissed open. People, all in advanced stages of decay, stepped from the train and began to shamble toward the doors on the far side of the station.

  The conductor led Dekker through the crowd into the concourse. Tall stone pillars, thick as trees, lined the walls. Beneath their feet a spidery web of cracked tiles spread like moss into every corner. In the middle of the wide hall the conductor stopped and pointed his lantern to one side. “Welcome—both of you—to August Key Station.” There, lying on a bench surrounded by spirits, was Riley.

  Dekker rushed to her side, pushing through the blue balls of light that hovered around her. She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes open but unseeing. “Riley!” Dekker waved his hand in front of her face. He shook her shoulders, and a white liquid dripped from the corner of her mouth. Everywhere a drop landed, a green shoot sprang out of the ground. The spirits closest to them crowded around, forming briefly into human shapes as they breathed in the sweet, smoky smell of licorice.

  “Oh, you did make it out after all. Well done, young man.”

  Dekker turned. One of the blue balls was taking the shape of Mrs. Conquergood, still wearing her royal-blue hat.

  “I thought I lost you in the sea,” he said.

  The old lady chuckled. “Oh my heavens, no. I lost sight of you when the wave crashed, and I wanted to look for you. I really did. But there was this wonderful smell, and I just couldn’t resist.”

  Dekker pointed to the floor, where more green shoots were sprouting up between the floor tiles. “It’s those plants, isn’t it?”

  Mrs. Conquergood tilted her head to one side and looked down at Riley. “That’s who you were looking for. It’s so good you found her.”

  “Yeah, but look at her. She’s hypnotized or something—I can’t get her to talk to me.”

  Mrs. Conquergood floated in front of Riley and looked at her closely. “Hold on just a moment, dear. I think I see the problem.” The old lady flew a little ways away, then rushed toward Riley and disappeared inside her. Riley’s body shook and turned a pale blue. A moment later Mrs. Conquergood zoomed back out, and Riley rolled onto her side and sputtered out the liquid that had filled her lungs, gasping for breath.

  Dekker caught Riley’s head and held on until she was able to breathe again. “Are you all right? What happened to you?”

  She sat up and coughed out a final mouthful of the white liquid. “Where am I? I feel terrible,” she said.

  Mrs. Conquergood tried to pat her on the head, her spectral hand passing through Riley with no effect. “It’s okay now, dear. You were full of water, but now it’s all better.”

  Dekker looked at the old lady’s ghost. “I don’t know what you did, but whatever it was, thanks.”

  She smiled. “It was nothing, dear. But maybe you could help me now? I’m embarrassed to say, now that I’m here, that I am at a loss as to what to do next.”

  The conductor interrupted. “Madam, you must wait for a train that can carry you farther, or go into the city, like all the others.”

  Mrs. Conquergood looked toward the bank of wooden doors at the far side of the concourse and wrinkled her nose. “My goodness, this isn’t what I was expecting at the end, not at all.”

  “Madam, Understory is merely a stopping point on your journey into death. It is not the end, as you call it.”

  Dekker pointed back toward the tracks. “Why aren’t the trains running?”

  The skeleton shook his head slowly. “Alas, brother. The Bone clan always goes back to Dayside to collect the dead—but none have left this place in a generation. Since the city’s Nightclock ran down, no trains have departed for the realms below. The station has been locked from the city side. Some return to Dayside as ghosts, until they forget there is another destination. Others stay in Nightside, lost and untethered. Most make their way into Under
story—and who knows how long they’ll wait for transport to the next place? None have returned to the station. As they say, that train don’t run through here no more.”

  “Why don’t people walk down the tracks and just catch a train from out there?” Dekker pointed back to where they had arrived.

  But the conductor shook his head. “You could walk down the tracks, that’s true. But if you did, the train you found would not be the kind of train that leaves from the station, and it would not take you on the paths of the dead.”

  Mrs. Conquergood clutched at the pearls around her neck and settled onto the bench beside Riley, fading slightly into the wooden seat. “I guess I’ll wait then. I only wish I’d brought a book to read.”

  Dekker looked at the skeleton. “What about us? Do we wait too?”

  The conductor pointed a bony finger at the puddle at Riley’s feet. An emerald vine was growing out of it before their eyes, twisting around the legs of the bench where she sat. Several of the white bone creatures were already climbing its thick stalk. “The longer the living girl remains in Nightside, the greater the danger grows.”

  “What danger? We brought her back to life just now.”

  The conductor pulled several of the bone crabs off the vine and held them in his outstretched hand. “Larger Nightside denizens than these will be thirsting for her blood. This is no place for the living. Already the life force drains from her. You must enter the city if you wish to find a way to return her to Dayside before it’s too late.” The conductor passed the little creatures to Dekker. “Bone calls to bone, brother. They are small, but they will listen to you. You may find them useful.”

  Dekker took the creatures and stuffed them inside his bag with the journal. “Thanks. Can you tell us where to go? You say the station is closed, but there must be a way.”

  The conductor put his hand on Dekker’s shoulder. “Perhaps. A living girl has not been seen in Understory in many years. Things change simply by your presence here. You should seek the daughter of night and day. She may see the next steps on your journey.”