She slipped on a pair of sneakers that were beside the basement door and, with her fingers still wrapped around Farley’s collar, slipped out into the night.
The temperature had dropped substantially in the past half-hour and the cold sliced through her thin t-shirt. She ran across their back lawn and leapt up the low retaining wall into their neighbor’s yard. Farley trotted obediently beside her as she wove in and out of the dusky forms of tricycles, scooters, and sand toys. Once she reached the side of their house where she could no longer be seen from the Forresters’, she made a beeline for the woods, all the while expecting to feel the chill of breath on her neck or the grip of a hand on her arm. She accelerated once she was under the cover of the forest, but each shadow became a man in her mind, and the ominous stillness of the trees propelled her to even faster speeds. By the time she reached the stones, she was nearly hysterical. She ran across the stones without letting go of Farley and the familiar wrench of the traveling was almost reassuring.
When she stopped moving, Abbey looked all around her. The darkness had not receded. In fact, Abbey realized that this place was even darker than the forest she’d left. She could make out nothing except for the dark forms of trees around her, denser and more overgrown than the forest she’d departed. She could hear her own breath, but not Caleb or Simon. Farley let out a low whine.
“Caleb! Simon!” Abbey cried softly in a voice that sounded very close to tears. Nobody answered her call. She bit back the panic and called again. But there was no answer. To her left, Abbey could just barely make out a faint glow through the trees. Farley pulled in the direction of the glow, whimpering.
“Farley, do you know where they are? Farley, find Caleb and Simon. Find Caleb and Simon.”
The large dog strained at his collar, bouncing from front paws to back paws, and let out a few growly barks.
“Oh, Farley, I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Abbey. She realized she’d tucked his leash into her pocket. She withdrew it and fastened it to his collar. Farley started to bound off into the woods, wagging and sniffing. “Farley, wait! Stop! We have to mark the stones!” She dug her heels into the forest floor and pulled the eighty-pound dog to a halt. She whirled back into the absolute darkness. She’d already come too far away. Were the stones five steps back? Eight? Slightly to the right or to the left? Her lips felt dry and fear curled around her stomach. She had no idea.
She tried not to allow the tears to roll down her cheeks. How would she get home? Should she stay here and hope Caleb and Simon came back, or go looking for them? She should stay near the stones. But Farley started to growl into the bushes behind her—a type of low, threatening growl that he’d never emitted before in his life—and she heard the unmistakable sound of twigs snapping. She started walking blindly in the direction of the light, away from the sound, letting Farley lead the way, as branches scratched her face and tore at her hair.
Farley set a lively pace, and she was pulled along at a half-jog, half-trot, trying not to whimper as she got farther and farther from the stones. Closer to the light, the sounds of voices and drums started to reach her ears, and she realized the glow was a giant bonfire. It was in a large clearing and a raucous party was in progress. Bodies of all sizes danced around the flames to a wild drumbeat and an unruly fiddle melody. Farley slowed automatically, unsure how to proceed.
Men, women, and children held hands and circled the fire, weaving in and out of each other in an intricate pattern. Faces and arms were smudged with dirt and hair was tangled and wild. Their clothes appeared to be a mishmash of modern-looking garments, ripped and stained, and loose-fitting shifts of earthy tones. Chickens meandered around the clearing. A motley collection of teepees and tents ringed the party.
She peered from behind a clump of trees. Farley seemed completely bemused. Abbey felt the sick slink of uncertainty. Were these people friendly? Or would they boil her in a pot? The thought of heading back into the black forest alone almost made her retch. Where were Caleb and Simon? Then she caught a glimpse of Caleb in the crowd. Abbey moved forward, pushing aside branches to get a better look. Caleb danced energetically with the others, his movements graceful, his face glowing with his unmistakable lopsided grin, red hair illuminated by the fire. But he’d changed his clothes, and Simon was nowhere to be seen.
Abbey edged a bit closer. She had to get to Caleb. She’d managed to get within a few meters of the clearing without being noticed when Farley gave a yip of recognition and charged off in Caleb’s direction, wrenching the leash from her hand.
“Bad dog, Farley, BAD DOG!” Abbey shouted. But it was too late. The dancers stopped to stare while Farley jumped all over Caleb. Caleb threw up his arms in surprise. Burly, hairy men in animal skins armed with bows and arrows arrived at a run, pulled Farley off of Caleb, and wrestled the dog to the ground. Farley, completely unused to being so manhandled, dropped to the ground as if he’d been shot, and for a second Abbey feared he had, but then two of the men sat on the dog’s rump. Farley let out a whimper, but seemed unhurt.
Several of the armed men had already run into the bushes during the commotion, and Abbey found herself quickly surrounded, as all eyes from around the campfire turned toward her. At the men’s prodding—with arrows notched in bows—she stepped into the clearing, her face flaming and her heart hammering so hard she was nauseated. She was guided toward Caleb, who stood alone by the fire, a ring of people around him. What was Caleb doing? He’d made some gesture and the men on top of Farley had risen. One man remained by the dog’s side, clutching the leash tightly against the dog’s neck.
As she approached, Abbey realized with utter sinking sickness that the person she was walking toward was not Caleb, not a boy at all, but a man of about fifty, with broad shoulders, a haze of red gray stubble, and a gaunt sculpted face marked by a criss-cross of deep red scars. He, too, wore the skin of an animal on his back. His shirt was open at the chest, revealing a drift of ruddy chest hair and a wooden necklace carved into the shape of the sun.
She was delivered to him, and he raised his hand to the men. “It’s all right. She’s with me, my niece, come to give us word of the doings of our friends the Dog Tribe.” He waved his hand at Farley. “She and I will retreat to my tent where we will have word and refreshment. Let the party continue.” He drew her into his arms and engulfed her in a giant bear hug, the hard muscles of his arms pulling her tight. “You are welcome here, Abbey,” he whispered. His manner of speaking was slower, and more formal and serious, than that of the Caleb she knew, and his eyes were etched with a gravity and strength she’d never seen in her twin. And yet he was Caleb. And she wanted to weep.
Then the man who was Caleb, but not Caleb, took her arm and guided her away from the fire. The man holding Farley followed at a respectful pace. The fiddlers started up and the lively polka resumed with the dancers once again joining hands. The crowd parted way for them to pass and, apart from a few mildly curious stares, most people returned to their revelry.
Caleb, who wasn’t Caleb, led her to a larger teepee-style tent set apart from the others. Sentries stood by the doors in furred costumes. Inside, the tent floor was covered with rugs, and two wooden torches wrapped in some sort of cloth made shadows dance across the cream walls.
“Sit,” he said to Abbey. She obeyed. This Caleb was to be obeyed. “Leave the dog and bring dinner please,” he said to the man. Unloosed, Farley flung himself at Abbey, burrowing his way into the blankets by her side. Once the man had left, Caleb turned back to her.
“You’re Caleb,” she said. It was a statement more than a question.
He smiled. The impish appeal of his looks hadn’t been lost in the web of scars he now wore. “Yes, I am. You’ve come through the stones, I assume.”
“Yes.”
“Where are Simon and I? That sounds funny, doesn’t it? ‘Where am I?’”
Abbey smiled too, but hers was more forced and watery than her twin’s. “I don’t know. I came through later. You we
re gone. The younger you, I mean.” Abbey checked her tears. It wouldn’t do to cry in front of this Caleb. “But why don’t you know already? If you’re the future Caleb, you would know what’s happened.”
The green eyes that matched hers studied her. “No, I don’t exactly, because you never told the past me, and I would ask that you don’t.” His eyes became more distant. “There was a time when I thought knowing the future would be advantageous. But now, I’m not so sure. If I’d known how things would turn out, I would’ve second-guessed every decision I’ve made in the past thirty years, and if I’d done that, things could’ve turned out worse. And it’s important, for your safety, that I don’t know too much. Timelines are sensitive—and if you change the timeline from this side of the stones, you’ll be at risk. Had I known you were coming tonight, I might have sent someone out to meet you, or even come myself. That might have changed the timeline. So, it’s better that I didn’t know. It’s also best that you don’t tell the younger me much, either, for the same reasons. So, not another word. It might change something. Do you know the rules yet?” Abbey was about to shake her head when he waved his hand at her urgently. “Actually, don’t tell me that either, because then I’d be able to figure out when you’re coming from, which might not be a big deal, but then again it might be. Please, not a word to me, or Simon, about anything you’ve seen here. Just say you saw a group of people dancing. The less either of us tells the other tonight, the better. The observer effect, you used to call it. I’m more superstitious than I used to be, I’m afraid.”
Abbey shook her head. It was all too much to process. Her voice quavered when she spoke. “But I don’t know how to get back. I don’t know where the stones are.”
“You can always get back, unless you break one of the rules.”
Abbey felt vaguely hysterical. She started to say, but how can I be sure not to break the rules if I don’t know what they are? But then she remembered Caleb had told her not to tell him whether she knew the rules, and she clasped her hand to her mouth.
The old Caleb didn’t seem to notice the slip. “Please. Let’s enjoy each other’s company for a little bit.” His eyes grew sadder, if that was possible. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. You should eat, and then head back the way you came. I’ll send someone with you part of the way. The woods are safe. We’re in peace right now and we’ve got this area pretty tied down. You’ve got Farley.” He gave the dog an affectionate rub between the ears. “I wish I had a Farley now.” Farley made a rumbly sound, the one they’d always called his ‘moo’. She wondered if this Caleb remembered that.
The flaps of the tent parted then, and a man arrived with two steaming bowls on a tray. Abbey’s stomach growled ferociously. Simon and Caleb had taken the sandwiches. The man handed her a bowl and, with a nod from Caleb, she dug in. The stew had a gamey flavor and contained spicy meat, root vegetables, and rosemary, and it tasted divine. Abbey guessed the meat was rabbit. She gobbled it up and allowed the comfort of the food to flow through her. She watched her brother eat, the tired lines on his face moving in the candlelight, this man who lived in a tent, who had obviously seen battle, who led other men, who had once been her brother. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, but she dared not.
When the bowl was empty, she looked at her brother in alarm. Was he going to make her leave? She felt safe in the tent with this older Caleb. Safer than she’d felt since Sunday. She checked her watch. 6:42. If time passed at the same rate here as it did at home, their parents would be home soon. She had to get back, and hope that Simon and Caleb did too. She stood.
Caleb nodded as if he agreed with her assessment that it was time to leave. “When you said I can always get back, you meant that there isn’t just one portal, one way back?” she asked. “Like when we were in the Bubble City. We just came home, even though we hadn’t gone back to the stones. Or is there more than one set of stones in each place? I guess you can’t tell me.”
Caleb smiled, the deep lines around his eyes creasing and indenting. “No, I can’t. Just remember—it’s about what you came for, which isn’t always what you think you came for. Some people believe the stones are alive.” He rose. “I’ll have someone walk you into the woods. I can’t do it myself. The stones you came through are south of here. Use Aquila as a guide. I don’t know where you are in your timeline, but I can make some guesses. I don’t know what you know already, but the stones are dangerous. They can consume you, and become all you think about. Be careful. I know you were always the level-headed one and I should have listened to you more. But I doubt there’s anything you could’ve changed anyway. You can kill yourself trying to change the future. Don’t let false prophets lead you astray.”
“Please,” Abbey begged. “Can’t you tell me more?”
Caleb shook his head.
Abbey nodded, wordless. She wanted Caleb to be going with her. This Caleb, who seemed to be her father, or an uncle, or a much older brother. Not her twin.
At Caleb’s call, a fur-clad man came to the door. They exchanged a few murmured words and then the man nodded to Abbey. Abbey heard the man say, “Yes light.”
“Rowan will take you as far as the beaver pond.”
Abbey stuck out her hand. Caleb took it in his and pressed his other hand against it. She suppressed a sob. Questions flashed through her mind: Where am I? Why are you so sad? What happened? But she couldn’t ask them. “Thanks for the food,” she said.
Caleb nodded slowly. He picked up a blanket from the tent floor. “You’d better take this too. It’s a cold night.”
Abbey, Rowan and Farley left the tent and skirted the dancers, who now moved in unison to a quieter, more graceful dance that reminded her of Tai chi. The dancers stopped at various intervals in their routine and cupped their hands together as if they were holding something, before raising their palms to the sky with solemn expressions. Abbey realized it was a permanent camp. Makeshift wooden structures stood off in the trees. Wooden sheltered cookhouses, with low fires and bubbling pots, were scattered at regular intervals throughout the tents. Her brother would be spending winter here. The warmth she’d felt in the teepee began to subside, and she pulled the blanket tightly around her.
Rowan resembled a hairy warthog with black bristles protruding from every place imaginable on his face. He’d looked friendly enough in Caleb’s tent, like a droll beast with an unfortunate follicle problem, but in the dwindling light, the excess hair made him wilder, unrulier. He marched purposefully in silence until they were away from the camp, and then he slowed his pace. Abbey felt a twitch of unease at the change in speed.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
Abbey grasped desperately for Caleb’s words at the fire. “The Dog Tribe,” she repeated.
“And where do your people live?” Something about his tone suggested interrogation rather than casual inquiry. The sauntering seemed too deliberate, too uncalled for, like he was killing time, circling her into a trap.
She searched again for an appropriate answer, glancing back at the fading light of the fire to determine if she could run it, but she’d seen the daggers hooked into Rowan’s belt and imagined how quickly one might be placed in her back. “Circle Plateau,” she said, not knowing why she’d pulled this out of the air, but hoping it was sufficiently generic to pass.
“Long walk,” Rowan said. “These woods aren’t safe for a girl traveling on her own.”
“I’m fine,” Abbey repeated. She pulled Farley closer until his rump was touching her side. The big dog walked on unperturbed, which gave Abbey some small measure of comfort.
“Are you part of this plan of the lights?”
“I don’t know,” Abbey said. The lights? What was this man talking about?
The man abruptly stopped. “We’re at the beaver pond. This is as far as I was told to go.”
Abbey looked all around. The night had cleared and the stars blinked above her, allowing her to at least see the ground in front of her, but the
gibbous moon was just making its way over the horizon and the forest was still shrouded in a deep darkness. The music from the fire had faded but was still audible. Amongst the notes, she could make out the sounds of water splashing.
“The beavers are out tonight,” Rowan said. “If you are part of the lights plan, you should rethink it. Travel safely.” He retreated into the dark of the trees and Abbey found herself alone once more. She moved to a spot where the trees were less dense and found the kite-like form of Aquila the Eagle in the sky. She checked her watch again. 7:03. She hastened her pace.
She walked for about ten minutes. The fire became a small candle-like glow in the trees behind her. Abbey heard the unmistakable sound of voices ahead of her. She quickened her pace for a few seconds, hoping that she had found Caleb and Simon. But as she approached it became apparent that the voices were those of men, not teenaged boys. She crouched in the bushes, uncertain what to do, clutching Farley even closer to her, but the dog—chastened by his experience by the fire—seemed to have no inclination to go anywhere.
“We have to take the light out before this goes any further,” a low baritone voice said.
Another voice, this one higher. “I don’t want to just kill him. Isn’t there another way?”
“The kid said it was dangerous. Maybe he’ll die in transit.”
Abbey’s heart felt like it had ballooned to the size of a beach ball and occupied the entire back of her throat. Was the light a name, a person? “Yes light,” Rowan had said to Caleb. They couldn’t be talking about Caleb.
A Pair of Docks Page 11