Will Wilder

by Raymond Arroyo

  “Down here. Come quickly. Just stay clear of the water,” the Captain said, in a futile attempt to keep his voice down. Balor trudged to the point where the church’s stone foundation met the river.

  Will hesitated for a moment, checking over his shoulder to be sure Mr. Shen was nowhere in sight. He took a breath and bounded down to the shoreline, following the Captain’s lead. From behind, the Captain’s slicker undulated oddly, one side awkwardly heaving up, then the other. If Will hadn’t known better, he might have thought three men were wrestling beneath Captain Balor’s raincoat as he moved.

  Balor wheeled around at the corner of the church’s foundation.

  “Ye’ve given us such joy, Will,” the Captain said, yanking his rain hat from his head and tilting his face to the left. “By tomorrow we’ll be seeing out of our eye. What a gift ye’ve offered us, lad.” Despite the Captain’s enormous size, he seemed like a little kid struggling to find words of gratitude.

  “I was worried you weren’t coming,” Will said, panting from the run.

  “Ye never have to worry about Nep Balor. We keep our promises, Will.” He spoke quickly, wiping the clotted spittle from the corner of his mouth. “Time is short. Listen well, lad. Tomorrow, ye come right here at nine a.m. sharp. It’ll be low tide.”

  “But I’ll be working in the churchyard at that time. Mr. Shen might—”

  “Yeh leave Shen to us,” Captain Balor said, his purple lips turning down. “We’ll figure a way to draw him from here—distract him. Where’s Shen now? Cooling himself, if I had to guess.”

  “He said he was doing some work in the church.”

  “Of course, keeping himself comfortable while others suffer is that lout’s full-time occupation. Some guardian he is! Never mind him—you just make it yer business to be here at nine a.m. tomorrow. With the tide low, we’ll be able to take ye round to the mouth of the Undercroft. It’s right round there, where the church wall meets the river. It’s too high to enter now—but tomorrow morning the water’ll be low. That’s the only time it’ll be safe to get into the church.”

  “I have my grandfather’s notes, so I—I think I can get to the relic.”

  “Don’t think, lad. Do! Ye’ll have only one chance to get in. One! Bring some of yer pals along. Ye may need them to run up ahead and reveal the traps and such to yeh.”

  “That was my plan,” said Will, happy that he now had a clear path to the Undercroft. “Do you think it’s safe for my friends? Could they get hurt?” he asked.

  “Depends on yer friends. Any of us could get hurt, but we have to take the chance.” He trained his yellowed eye on Will. “People like Shen, they’re never going to help us. We have to help ourselves—and stick together. Who else is here for yeh now, Will?”

  “Nobody. They don’t even care.” To his right the dark currents of the river churned, and a water moccasin slithered beneath the surface near the shore. “Captain Balor, have you ever seen something—something scary—and the next thing you know, it’s not there?”

  “Ah, our minds—even the waters—deceive us all the time. What things ye been seeing, Will?”

  “Yesterday I thought I saw a giant tail coming out of the river. The fish were boiled alive. Killed everything.”

  Captain Balor shook his immense head slowly. “We told ye these waters were filled with dangers. Look at what happened to that swimmer the other day, and the fisherman. Awful! Creatures ripped them poor souls to bits….”

  Will was breathing hard. “Weird stuff has been happening. Things started hitting my house yesterday. There were bones and shells and junk all over our den. Inside our house! My dad and I saw it. Course now he’s pretending he didn’t see anything.”

  “That’s a disgrace.” Captain Balor flattened his greasy hair and put on his rain hat. “When a man lies to his own boy, he ain’t fit to be called ‘father.’ But leave those feelings aside for now. Focus on what ye can touch. What ye can verify.”

  Will’s eyes grew wide. “That’s just what my dad says: ‘Put your trust in what you can verify.’ ”

  “Well, he may be right about that. Unlike all the empty promises yeh hear, all the blather, yeh need to get yer hands on something real. That relic is real. Ye can hold it. Possess it. And just think of the great things ye’ll be able to do once it’s yours.”

  Will sneezed. “I’m not ah-ah-AH-CHOO! I’m not sure I can get all the way to the Keep. The chambers are complicated—AH-CHOO! I’ve been reading my great-grandfather’s notebook. It’s a series of riddles—AH-CHOO! There’s a challenge in each chamber.”

  “Ye can do it, lad. Think of this eye and what that relic will mean to us. We’ll be able to see again, Will.” Balor’s drooping left eyelid started to rise. A quick glimpse of the foul bloodied eye caused Will to look away. “Think of yer poor brother’s arm.”

  Will nodded in agreement. To end his punishment, to heal Leo’s arm, to restore the Florida trip, and to help Captain Balor—he had to get the relic.

  The Captain’s lips parted into a smile, revealing his dull gray teeth. “We knew we could count on ye, son.” His voice dropped into a soothing key. “We only ask that ye touch the relic to our eye once ye grab it. That’s all we want. Now get back up there before Shen starts asking questions. Till the morning, then. Don’t tell anyone we talked, right, lad?”

  “Right,” Will said. He waved to the Captain and ran up the embankment. As he climbed the levee a thought occurred to him. Will turned. “Captain, how did you know about my brother’s arm? I didn’t tell you….”

  The bare riverbank lay before him. Captain Balor was gone. Will looked down the shoreline and into the river. There was no trace of the Captain, only the clouds casting their heavy shadows on the water. Will shivered and ran up to St. Thomas Church.

  Tobias Shen was kneeling in the first pew of the darkened church when Will pried open the rear doors. A shaft of sunlight invaded the building, reaching clear across the center aisle and falling on Shen’s shoulders.

  “Finished digging yourself into holes?” Shen asked, without looking back. “Have you completed your work?”

  “I dug a few holes and replanted your walking stick.”

  “Not my stick. Your tree!”

  “I have to go meet some friends,” Will said in a hush, holding the heavy door. “I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.”

  “Come in. Close the door.” Shen’s strong, low voice ricocheted off the high plastered ceiling.

  “My friends are waiting for me. I have to leave, Mr. Shen.”

  “Shh-shh-shh….You have to be quiet.”

  Will laced his fingers behind his neck and stood in the middle aisle. He so wanted to flee.

  Tobias Shen’s head turned like that of a great gray owl. “Kneel.”

  Will reluctantly stepped into the last row of the church and dropped onto the kneeler. “What are we doing?”

  “Waiting for instructions.”

  “But I have to meet my friends.”

  “Shh-shh-shh. You can’t hear instructions if you’re talking. Obedience, Mr. Wilder, requires listening. And listening requires silence. Shut the mouth and the heart opens.” The old man rose from his place and walked toward the rear of the church. When he got close to Will, he placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You will hear in silence what a multitude of words will never give you. Your great-grandfather found wisdom here. Be still and listen.”

  Tobias Shen walked to the door of the church. “After you listen, water your walking stick tree. The most fragile often need the most care.” Shen exited the church, leaving Will alone.

  Kneeling in the back pew, Will didn’t have the slightest idea what he was supposed to be listening for or what “instructions” he was to receive. Though basking in the silence did calm him, banishing jealous thoughts of Leo and dispelling the anger he felt toward his father. Sitting back in the wooden pew, he gazed at the statues in the niches on either side of the church. He marveled that his great-grandfather
had built something so beautiful and so peaceful.

  Catching sight of the small golden door to the right of the altar, Will’s mind flipped back to the illustration he had seen in Jacob’s notebook. He fished the notebook from his backpack. Near the end of the green book was a sketch of a short golden door. According to the notes, the door led directly to the Keep. Will jumped to his feet, raced to the front of the church, and opened the marble gate separating the pews from the high altar. In the sanctuary, he squatted down near the polished door. The lettering at the center read:

  SANCTI THOMAE APOSTOLI

  Behind this door was the Keep and the relic he longed to touch. Will had to find out whether it was real or not, whether it could do anything. It was worth the risk. He yanked at the door’s single ring on the off chance that it might give and eliminate the need for him to meet with the Captain in the morning. Three locks held it firmly in place. There was only one way he was going to get that relic—by entering through the Undercroft. Kneeling before the door, in the quiet, he considered the idea of just asking Tobias Shen to show him the relic. Maybe he could bring Leo to the church, even invite Captain Balor in too? But Mr. Shen would probably say no. The Captain did tell him that Shen kept the relic from those who needed it most. Can’t chance it, Will thought. Staring at the golden door, he resolved to find his way to the Keep, no matter what.

  Looking at his watch, he realized he had only ten minutes to meet his friends across town at Bub’s Treats and Sweets. He vaulted over the altar rail, dashed up the aisle, and went out the back doors. After quickly throwing a bucket of water over the buried stick in the yard, he headed downtown.

  It was slightly overcast on the run to Bub’s. Tearing down Falls Road, Will hooked a left at Perilous Falls Elementary and ran straight up Main Street. Towering oak trees shaded the wide walkways. With its quaint turn-of-the-century-styled storefronts, downtown was Will’s favorite part of Perilous Falls. He dashed by the stately city hall with its Grecian columns and steep manicured lawn, knowing that his father was probably inside stuck in a meeting or flattening the back of his hair at his drafting table.

  On the next block, a succession of familiar hanging signs dangled overhead: Milk and Honey’s Bistro, Dagon’s Hair Cuttery, Bobbit’s Bestiary, Evening Wear by Eve, Bonaventure’s Used Books. This was home to Will, and everything seemed in its place.

  He sprinted until he came to a corner where a small crowd had gathered. A mangled bicycle in the middle of the sidewalk blocked his path. Pushing past some gawking ladies with shopping bags, Will realized what had drawn the onlookers. An older man in biking shorts lay at the edge of the street. He was agitated and twitchy. A younger woman in spandex with short brown hair held the man’s wounded head in her hands. Just a few feet away a car with a dented bumper was still running.

  “Ma’am, the ambulance is close by,” a short police officer next to Will quietly told the woman.

  “Daddy, they’ll be here in a minute,” she assured the man with the bleeding head. “Hang on.”

  Will could feel a giant sneeze building. He rubbed his nose, trying to stifle the explosion. But the tickling sensation would not go away.

  “AH-AH-CHOO!” The noise caused members of the crowd and the policeman to stare at him. But Will was too busy staring at something else. Coming out of the street, he saw a dozen shadowy arms and hands—claws—reaching, grasping for the injured man.

  A pudgy bald guy in a button-down shirt and gray pants stepped forward. He knelt next to the man in the street. “May I say a prayer for you, sir?” he asked.

  The daughter’s face hardened and her eyes narrowed. “No, thank you.”

  “It’ll only take a minute,” the pudgy man said. “Just a quick prayer?”

  The old man moaned, kicking his legs wildly.

  “We’re dealing with an emergency here,” the daughter said to the bald man. “Unless you’re a doctor, please go away.”

  Will, in a frightened trance, heard none of what was said. He was too transfixed by the scores of smoky claws rising from the street, inching ever closer to the old man. He alone could see them. But what could he do?

  “Get away! Get away!” Will screamed without thinking. He was embarrassed the moment the words escaped his lips. The whole crowd turned their eyes on him again.

  “It’s okay, kid,” the policeman said, squeezing Will’s arm. He then turned his attention to the pudgy man kneeling in the street. “The boy's right, sir. You need to step away.”

  As the bald man struggled to his feet, Will searched for the shadowy hands. They were all gone. They had vanished as quickly as they had come.

  “Everybody should move along. You too, son,” the cop instructed.

  Crossing the street, Will looked back to make sure the shadows had not returned. He saw only the now peaceful old man staring in his direction, waving a weary hand. Though he waved back, Will didn’t know what to make of it. The shadows seemed to be appearing more frequently, but why?

  Trying to shake the experience, he jogged away quickly. According to his watch, Will was already seven minutes late. Cami would be furious. With no more time for shadow thoughts, he double-timed it the rest of the way.

  Given the dogs, cats, and birds swarming outside of Bub’s Treats and Sweets, it could have been a pet store. The managers regularly laid milk and food out for visiting pets, and the sweet-smelling trash bins in the alley always attracted a haze of flies and bees. Critter traffic aside, Will and his friends thought it the best ice cream and candy shop in town. And it was.

  Through Bub’s big front window, Will could see Simon, Cami, and Andrew sitting at a small metal table next to the chrome-covered soda bar and swivel stools. Simon’s face was blocked by a thick paperback book he was devouring. Andrew nearly broke his straw diligently scraping the inside of one of the two sundae glasses before him.

  Cami raised a thin hand and made eye contact with Will the moment he entered the glossy whitewashed space. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back into a familiar ponytail—as familiar to Will as the raised eyebrows and knowing look on her face.

  “So what’s this about, William? I’ve got a sundae riding on your answer,” Cami said, her green eyes never leaving his. Pleasantries had never been her strong suit. She warily studied Will’s expression the way a sparrow might study an approaching tabby.

  “Andrew thinks you need help doing chores at home. Simon thinks you’re planning to hold up the Morning Star Bank.” As she spoke the skin around her mouth protruded slightly to accommodate the braces covering her teeth. “But the fact that you couldn’t tell us what you’re planning leads me to believe that it’s another classic crackpot William scheme. And by the way, you’re eight minutes late.” She took a slow sip from the straw in her milk shake without touching it with her hands.

  Throughout the entire speech, Simon continued reading.

  Andrew buried his nose in a tall soda glass, gulping down its contents. When he was finished, he carefully positioned the glass beside the empty before him. “Me and you can take care of any chores, you know. We really don’t need them.” He indicated Cami and Simon with his eyes, wiping milk from his upper lip with the back of his ruddy hand. “I mean, she’s a girl, and he has the strength of half a girl. For a few bucks, I’ll always help you out,” he joked.

  Simon lowered his bulky copy of The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Still shaking a bit from the ice cream sugar rush, he straightened his rectangular black-framed glasses and addressed Will. “If you need to do anything more than punch a hole in a wall, Cami and I have more than enough spare brain cells to compensate for Andrew’s deficit.” His high nasally voice could have cut through the front glass.

  Andrew’s face flushed. He reached his long arm across the table and swatted Simon on the top of his curly head.

  “Don’t touch me!” Simon squealed, drawing some of the patrons’ eyes. He defensively shook his paperback at Andrew. “One more time and you can tutor yourself
in the fall. Without me, you’ll be back in elementary school!”

  Andrew started to move toward Simon.

  “Easy, big guy,” Cami said, patting Andrew on his broad shoulder. He was a good six inches taller than any of the boys in their class, including the two at the table. The red blotches on Andrew’s cheeks gradually faded as he settled back into his chair.

  “All right. Answers, William,” Cami demanded. “My brother’s bus is pulling up any minute and I promised my mom I’d take him home.” Cami’s brother suffered from Duchenne muscular dystrophy, and he had recently begun using a wheelchair.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll cut to the chase.” Will yanked the lacquered green notebook from his book bag and tossed it onto the table. “Do you know what that is?”

  “Lists of the people who used to be your friends until you withheld information?” Cami said drily.

  Simon blinked and took a stab. “The codes to the safe at the Morning Star Bank?”

  Andrew rolled his eyes and reared back in his chair. “Just spill it, Will-man,” he said, shaking his big head.

  “These are the detailed plans of the Undercroft—the chambers beneath St. Thomas Church.” Looks of confusion surrounded him, so Will briefed his tablemates on the relic and what it could do. “If we can get our hands on the relic, it might cure Leo’s arm, end my punishment, and our trip to Florida would be back on.”

  “What do you mean, ‘if we can get our hands on the relic’? What do you need us for?” Simon asked.

  “Backup. You each have your own specialty: Simon, you have the brains, Andrew has the strength, and Cami has incredible instincts. And since my great-grandfather built the church, I’ve got to be there. We’ll sneak in through the Undercroft of the church and together I think we can get in and get out.”

  Cami sat back in her chair, unmoved by the pitch. “So you want to break into a church?”

  “My family built the church. It’s not a break-in. It’s like going into your house through the garage door. We’re not taking the relic. We’re just borrowing it. The minute Leo touches it, we’ll put it right back.”