Woundabout

by Lev Rosen

  “We’re afraid, too,” Cordelia said. “Aunt Marigold is our only family, and the Mayor said we’d be sent to foster care and split up.” They stared at Gray in silence, and Gray looked down at his shoes. The fire crackled in the torches, and the sound of it echoed in the room, a little like the sound of the rain on the street when they’d first come to Woundabout.

  “But we did it anyway,” Connor said. “Because we had to.” He looked at his sister, who nodded in agreement.

  “I know. You’ve done such a good job so far,” Gray said, staring at the murals again. “Better than I could have.”

  “So far?” Connor asked. “But the job is done. The story said it was only earth, water, and fire that went away.”

  “Right,” Cordelia said, realizing all the things they’d wound. “We wound earth in the park. It made the flowers and trees bloom. That was one lock.”

  “Water in the river,” Connor said. “Real, fresh, running water. That was the second lock.”

  “And fire just now,” Cordelia said. “The last lock. We’re done. Things should be changing now.”

  “They are,” Gray said, “but slowly. And they’ll wind down again. If you want the town to stay changed… there’s one more thing you have to wind. The windmill.”

  “What windmill?” Nico asked. “Woundabout doesn’t have a windmill. We would have seen it.”

  “The Mayor’s house!” Connor said suddenly. Gray nodded. “The Mayor’s house is the only place that makes sense. It’s so windy up there.”

  “If you start up the windmill,” Gray said, “it will power all the other elements, now that the machine has started. It keeps everything working, and we have to wind only it—and just once a year. As long as the wind blows and the windmill stays open, this town will be like any other.”

  Connor and Cordelia looked at each other and, without saying anything, took each other’s hands. They knew they had to finish this. Connor would have said it was like the need to keep building a town up, even after an earthquake hits, and Cordelia would have said it was like the need to keep taking photos until you got that perfect shot, no matter how long it took, but they knew they were feeling the same thing. They needed to finish what they’d started, and bring change to Woundabout.

  “So we have to get to the Mayor’s house,” Connor said. “There was a manhole in the middle of the square in front. Can these tunnels take us there?”

  “Yes,” said Gray, “but be careful. Now that you’ve turned the fire crank, people will feel the change. They’ll know you’re down here. They’re probably waiting at all the manholes in town. I’ll go ahead and try to distract them. I’ll rally the townsfolk who do want change. But be quick. Don’t let anyone stop you.”

  “I’m going to slip off,” Nico said, “if you’re going to turn the last one. I’m another kid—I’ll run around the sewers splashing and such, and they’ll think I’m one of you and chase after me.”

  “Won’t you get in trouble?” Cordelia asked.

  Nico shrugged. “Not much more than usual,” he said with a grin.

  “Thanks,” Connor said. “But be careful, too.”

  “We don’t want anyone to get caught,” Cordelia said.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Nico said, waving his arm. “No one’s caught me yet.”

  “Okay,” Cordelia said. “Thank you.”

  She looked at her brother. Both of their mouths were straight lines of determination. They knew they needed to do this. They needed things to change, because if they didn’t… then they’d always be like this. They’d always feel draped in sadness. And that would be more awful than anything that change could bring.

  Chapter 26

  Everyone, be very careful,” Cordelia said to the assembled group. They were going to split up, and they each had a dangerous mission: Connor and Cordelia, to get to the Mayor’s house and wind the crank there; Nico, to distract the townsfolk looking for Connor and Cordelia in the sewers; and Gray, to rally the other townsfolk and get them to look at change as a good thing. It wasn’t going to be easy, and if any of them were caught, they might not see the others again.

  “No worries,” Nico said, and looked as though he was about to dash out, but Cordelia hugged him before he could. Connor hugged him, too, and Nico’s eyes shone brightly when the hugs were done. “I haven’t had many pals,” he said. “Not since we came here, I mean. I’m all isolated with the greenhouses and such. But I’m glad to have met you two.” He raised his hand to his forehead and saluted them before winking and running out into the sewers.

  The children were left alone with Gray, who knelt down to look them in the eye. “You are the best thing that has happened to this town, and to your aunt Marigold,” he said. “And to me,” he added, as if surprised by it. “Be careful. You’ve made it this far.”

  “You too,” Connor said. “Don’t get in any trouble because of us.”

  “I won’t,” said Gray, standing up and pushing his shoulders back. He marched out into the sewers, leaving Connor and Cordelia alone in the room. Connor stared down at the gears rotating under their feet. Cordelia looked up at the murals that surrounded them.

  “Well,” she said after a moment, “we should get going.”

  “Yeah,” Connor said, and reached out his hand again. Cordelia took it, and together they walked out into the sewers and headed forward in the darkness, Kip alongside them.

  They walked with purpose, but they still had trouble navigating. Connor mapped the sewers as best he could and guessed which way they had to turn, from his experience with maps and from knowing which way the windmill was. It was cold, but they were nervous, and that made them warmer when they knew they should be shivering. The walls of the sewers were wet with beads of liquid, and there was always the sound of dribbling water.

  Sometimes they stopped and turned off their flashlights as they heard footsteps, or low voices calling, “You see anything?” Once, a manhole opened just a few feet from them, and the shadow of a head looking down was cast right by their feet. They froze, afraid to breathe.

  “Any children down there?” said a hoarse voice. Connor and Cordelia stayed silent. “Nothing here,” the voice said, and the manhole cover closed back up again. They were scared, damp with sweat, and the sewer smelled like rotting food and fungus. Even Kip was nervous, and wouldn’t go back into the water.

  They held hands as they walked. They remembered how their parents had told them they were a family and they would always be together, and as long as they were together, they could do anything.

  “We have your auntie, kiddies,” said a voice in the darkness. The children froze and held their breaths. “Come out now and we won’t hurt her.” In the darkness they could hear only the running water.

  “They’re not here,” said another voice. “Let’s try this way.” The children heard footsteps heading off in another direction, and they exhaled.

  “Think they’ll really hurt her?” Cordelia whispered. She imagined Aunt Marigold in a dark room somewhere, tied to a chair, crying.

  “I don’t know,” Connor said, and shivered. “I hope not.”

  “What if they do, though?” Cordelia whispered. “What if they have her in the trunk of a car or a basement with rats? She was trying to protect us.” Cordelia’s voice got louder as she said this, and she realized it and stopped talking. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, but her heart was beating so quickly and loudly she was sure people could hear it throughout the sewers.

  “I don’t think the Mayor will, though,” Connor said. “Not until he’s found us. If they hurt her before, then we’d just get angry and not give him the crank. He’d wait until we could see him hurting her.”

  “Okay,” Cordelia said, although she didn’t feel reassured. She squeezed her brother’s hand in the darkness, and he squeezed back. “We’ll save her, then,” Cordelia whispered.

  “Yes, we will. Let’s go.”

  Connor led the way. There were some turns an
d intersections, but Connor knew they just needed to keep heading up, and that was easy. When they got to a manhole cover at a dead end, they knew it was the right one because they could hear the wind whipping over it on the other side.

  “Are you ready?” Connor asked his sister. She nodded.

  “Are you?” she asked. He nodded. They both knew they were nervous. So they looked each other in the eye and climbed up the ladder.

  Chapter 27

  They slid the manhole cover open, expecting to be swarmed by angry townsfolk, but there was no one there. They crawled out slowly, but the plaza was empty, apart from the wind. The children felt their hair and clothes being blown around, and heard the loud whistling of air past their ears. Leaves flew in small circles and suddenly dived off the cliff. Kip was having trouble keeping his footing and stayed close to the children, using them as a shield from the gusts.

  They stared up at the house. It was old, and the tower was bent over slightly. They wondered how it wasn’t more damaged after being blown by the wind for so many years.

  They looked down at the town—and they immediately ducked. There were all the townspeople. Just below them, in front of the square, where it wasn’t so windy. Gray and the Mayor were arguing, and everyone was staring at them. No one had noticed the children. Yet. So they stayed low to the ground and crawled away from the crowd.

  “Where do you think the hole is for the crank?” Connor shouted over the wind, hoping his voice wasn’t carried down to the townsfolk.

  “I don’t know,” Cordelia shouted back, looking around for a hole. The wind blew dust in her eyes and she had to look down and blink it away before she could open them again.

  Kip nudged Connor’s leg and looked at the side of the house, under the tower.

  “Over there,” Connor said, heading toward where Kip was leading them. Kip stayed close so as not to get blown away, but when they got close to the tower, he started sniffing anxiously at the wind, and pointed his head toward a large stone that was at the edge of the cliff. The children walked toward it very slowly.

  “Be careful,” Cordelia said. “I don’t want to get blown off the cliff.”

  The hole was just behind the rock, a few feet from the edge. Connor started to get the crank out of his bag, but turned as he heard the sudden roar of the crowd behind him. The townsfolk had spotted them, and the Mayor was leading them in a charge up the hill, his face red with anger. He was screaming something the children couldn’t make out, and new wrinkles seemed to be appearing in his face like rippling sheets.

  “Quick!” Cordelia shouted as she took the crank from Connor and shoved it into the hole. The children started to wind the crank as quickly as they could, which was hard, since they were pushing it against the wind. Cordelia looked back and saw the Mayor was almost there, stomping his feet, his hands balled up into fists. Gray was chasing after him, though, and grabbed him by the shoulder. The Mayor turned and pushed Gray with both arms, sending him rolling back down the hill. The Mayor spun back to the children and started running toward them.

  “Faster,” Cordelia said, and they wound the crank again.

  “I knew it was you!” the Mayor screamed, finally upon them. He grabbed the crank, but the children kept pushing it. They wound it one more time before the Mayor grabbed it and pulled it from the ground, holding it above him like a club.

  He looked as if he was about to hit Connor with it and knock him back over the cliff, but suddenly there was a sound above them, and they all looked up.

  The tower had straightened itself out, and a bar had emerged from the side of it. With a pop, the bar opened like an umbrella, creating a small wooden circle, and from that circle came four more bars extending outward.

  “No!” screamed the Mayor.

  The circle began to move, and as it did so, the four bars moved with it, leaving trails in the air. But they weren’t just trails, the children realized. They were sails. The tower had become the windmill, and it was spinning in the wind. It spun a few times and the ground shook a little under their feet. The children grabbed onto each other, afraid of falling off the cliff.

  The Mayor’s arms fell to his sides like a puppet’s without strings. The crank dropped from his hand with a dull thud. He looked down at them, and he didn’t look angry anymore. He looked tired, and pale. He tried to take a step but tottered slightly. He took another step, stumbling back toward the windmill. As he leaned against it, his hands spread out, trying to find something to keep him upright. They found a window latch, but instead of keeping him steady, it fell open as he pulled. The wind picked up, and suddenly, like a tornado, all the Mayor’s postcards came flying out the window and over the cliff.

  “No!” the Mayor cried out. He let go of the window and seemed to have enough strength to take a step forward, reaching out for the postcards, which were dancing in circles just beyond the edge of the cliff. He fell to his knees, still reaching. “Please,” he said in a soft voice. “Please. All I wanted was my sister to come visit me again. All she sends are those postcards.” The postcards, or maybe the wind, seemed to hear him, because all the postcards flew back to him, surrounding him in a spiral before landing around him in a circle. “I didn’t want to die alone,” he said. And then he collapsed, the postcards like a bed of flower petals. The windmill creaked above them. Connor and Cordelia just stared at him, afraid to speak.

  Gray rushed over to the Mayor and put his ear to the man’s chest.

  “He’s still alive,” he called to the crowd. “Someone get him to the hospital.”

  Immediately, several others from the crowd ran forward and hefted the Mayor’s body up and ran him downhill, out of sight. The children stared after them, worried that they had just killed him. Gray came over and laid a hand on their shoulders.

  “We’ll do everything we can,” he said.

  “Did we do that?” Cordelia asked. “Is he going to die? Did we kill him?”

  “No,” Gray said. “He was dying anyway. The town just… held him for a while. But you didn’t kill him. What you did was all this.” Gray gestured at the town, and the children looked out over it. Flowers were blooming suddenly out of the grass. Bare trees were exploding with leaves. There were birds and kites in the sky. The wind went from hurricane levels to a gentle breeze, and the noise it made almost vanished completely. Everyone who had been watching them was now watching the town, and the children could hear them oohing and aahing.

  Aunt Marigold turned away from the town and looked at the children. She walked toward them, and they stood up to meet her. They were afraid of what they had done. They were afraid they were going to be punished. Aunt Marigold didn’t look angry, though. She was smiling. And she seemed a little older. Her blond hair had streaks of white in it they hadn’t noticed before.

  “Oh, children,” she said when she was close to them. She sounded as though she thought it was funny. “You brought change back to Woundabout.”

  “Then why aren’t you mad?” Connor asked. “I thought you said it was better if things didn’t change.”

  Aunt Marigold took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if she was trying to get up the courage to say something. “I was afraid,” she finally said. “When Benny died, it was… horrible. It took a week. I watched him dying for a week—I lived through that, and afterward, I knew I never wanted to experience it again. My brother—your dad—had already met Adam, and they were married and starting a new life. They said I could come stay with them, but they were doing so many new things—opening a ranch, having children. I thought, What if something goes wrong? I was so scared. Of being alone, of more people leaving, of new people coming into my life and then leaving again. So I came here, far from the world. It was during the election, and the Mayor talked about a world where nothing ever changed, and that sounded wonderful. I voted for him. Except you can’t stop change. Bad things did happen. Awful things. My brother—your parents—are dead. I couldn’t stop that by moving here. Life is still going on, and I can’t
hide my head in the sand and hope nothing bad ever happens again. And neither can you. You shouldn’t. I knew it when I first saw you. I knew change was inescapable. And having you in my life… that’s a good change for me. Having family again. I’d forgotten how good change could be until I saw you, and your flappy panda—”

  “He’s a capybara,” Cordelia corrected.

  “Right. A capybara. And seeing you made me so happy… and I realized I hadn’t felt that way in a long time.”

  “So we did the right thing?” Cordelia said. Aunt Marigold looked behind her at the crowd of townspeople who had gathered. They were staring up at the windmill. Some looked angry, but most of them were smiling, as though they finally felt relaxed after years of being uneasy.

  “Oh, yes,” Aunt Marigold said, and knelt down and hugged both of them. It was a warm, close hug, like a favorite sweater. And the children suddenly felt as though they were finally home.

  “Things are going to be different now,” Gray said to the town. He was standing in front of the Mayor’s house, and he looked as though he belonged there. “Some of you may not like it.” And indeed, many of the townsfolk were frowning and grumbling. Some were glaring at the children. “But the windmill has been reactivated. Which means we’ll be changing for at least another year, before the windmill needs to be rewound. And I think that’s a good thing.”

  “Me too!” shouted someone from the crowd. Gray smiled.

  “Let’s think of this as a test. If, in a year, the majority of you want to go back to your old lives, we can let the windmill wind down. But if you find the coming year is good, and I think you will, then we can wind it up again.”