“That’s for sure,” Henry said.
Uncle Marco laughed. “Well, if things go the way I hope, be prepared to take in a lot more, a lot faster.”
“Huh?” Henry and I said.
“You opened the boxes—and you handled it beautifully,” Uncle Marco said. “But I’m glad you didn’t break the other rule—which was to keep the two boxes apart. I didn’t want to miss what might happen when we bring them together. We can move the clock in there now—and if it goes well, then we can get going ourselves, Annie.”
“Get going where?”
“My next destination: a surprise. And not Henry’s roof.”
“Uncle Marco,” I said slowly. “Can ... can Henry come, too?” A week ago I never would have imagined asking this; I would have wanted to be alone with Uncle Marco. Now I didn’t want to go unless Henry came along. The boxes had made us friends.
Uncle Marco turned to Henry, grinning. “You want to? That’s great, Henry!”
Henry looked confused. “Well, I know Annie hinted that you were always going on these mysterious adventures. It sounds interesting, but, I mean, what about my parents? What about school? What about staying around and watching Crutchley lose everything?”
“Yeah? What about watching that?” I said eagerly.
“You don’t understand,” Uncle Marco said. “If this works, we won’t be taking a plane. In a sense, we won’t even be leaving this house. I think this is just a short trip. No one will know you were even gone—if nothing goes wrong, that is. Let’s bring the clock in and then you can decide.”
“But we still don’t know what ... the boxes are for,” I said, grunting as we lugged the clock across the basement.
“Just think about how they helped you change so many things. And now—watch,” said Uncle Marco.
The creatures were expecting us, standing at attention in the colonnades, their heads facing the doorway. When we entered with the clock, they didn’t just bow; they prostrated themselves completely, their bodies stretched out on the floor, quivering. The sensation they projected of awe and wonder and devotion to the ends of the earth was so powerful I almost put down the clock and fell to the floor myself.
They weren’t just directing their feelings at the clock. I was part of it, too. I had never felt so needed or wanted or appreciated in my life. Tears sprang to my eyes. I was so glad I had done what they asked and brought the clock to them.
One of the creatures stood up and greeted me politely. Very good, nervous system. It is not too late. Now you must tell the Lord we are all three together at the palace and ask it what to do.
“Could you hear that, Uncle Marco?” I asked him.
He nodded.
“I could, too,” Henry said.
“Good. We’ll be able to do this together, if we ever have to.”
I looked down at the clock. I bowed. We are here at the palace. Your worshipers—who are devoted to you forever —want to know what to do next.
For a change, the clock didn’t make me wait. I remembered how it had obeyed my thought to lash out at Crutchley, back in his office. Had I proved myself to the clock, too? The dial clicked—and stopped on a mark like an upside-down U. I conveyed this to the creatures.
A silent cheer rose around us. The creatures were dancing and radiating more waves of pleasure. Put the Lord into the archway! Hurry!
Uncle Marco was studying the palace. “Good. They did well. It should be a nice fit,” he said.
We set the clock down in front of the large arched opening in the middle of the first three levels of the palace. The creatures all turned so that they were prostrating themselves in its direction.
“Now I think all we need to do is just give it a little push,” Uncle Marco said. All three of us pushed the clock right into the opening; it fit snugly inside.
And kept on going, slowly at first, then faster and faster. It looked as though it were sliding down a steep, slippery slope, getting smaller with distance—except there was no slope there, just the cement basement floor and the stone wall directly behind the palace. But the clock didn’t seem to be aware of the floor or the wall. It was going past them or around them or somehow through them, into some kind of space that hadn’t been there before.
Uncle Marco was enthralled, beaming, his hands clasped together. “I’ve always wanted to see this!” he whispered. “Watch! Don’t take your eyes away for a second.”
“But where did it go?” I wailed. “I just got it back—and now it’s gone!”
“Not if you go with it,” Uncle Marco said, glancing toward me, then back again.
Because now the creatures were running, swarming. And, true to form, the big, sleek ones were in the lead, the small, spotty ones in back. They followed the clock, slipping and sliding down the impossible, nonexistent incline—the exit that wouldn’t have been there at all if the palace had not been built and the clock had not entered it.
Nervous system! Nervous system! Come! We need you. We can’t make it without yououououou!
I was chewing on my lip. What was happening? Did they actually want me to come with them?
As they grew smaller with distance, the palace began to glow, the filaments becoming shimmering silver.
“Come on,” Uncle Marco said, getting to his hands and knees and approaching the opening.
“You’re going in there?” I said, terrified.
Upstairs, in another world, the doorbell rang.
Henry and I turned to each other. “Crutchley!” we both said. And I knew Henry wanted as much as I did to watch Crutchley take the news of his collapse.
“You can find out about that when we come back,” Uncle Marco said, now almost entirely inside the opening. “This door, this portal, won’t last long. If you don’t come now, you’ll never have the chance again.” He turned back to us, already shrinking into the distance. “Come on!” he cried, his voice echoing slightly.
“But where are you going? What’s in there?” I called out to him. It was awful, having him come back and then disappear so soon.
“You have to take risks in life!” he called back, his voice fading as he shrank into the distance. “They need you!”
“Why can’t he ever give a straight answer?” I wailed.
Henry and I looked at each other in confusion. It must have been more difficult for him because he had never met Uncle Marco before and, for all he knew, he could be nuts.
Still, we had seen what we had seen. And this was our only chance to go.
“Well?” Henry asked me.
“I don’t know!” I cried out. “But ... I’m part of it now, part of the clock and the creatures. They need me. And without them, we would never have beaten Crutchley.”
The palace was shining more brightly now and also trembling, like a reflection of lights in a pond at night that could instantly dissolve.
“... in the basement. I never go down there,” a voice brayed from above. We heard footsteps on the stairs.
“Aunt Ruth and Crutchley!” I whispered. “They can’t see this!”
Henry took my hand. “I’ll be right behind you,” he said. “I won’t let go.”
We got to our knees. There was no room to enter side by side, but Henry, behind me, had a good grip on my hand. I crawled in, one-handed.
And then there was nothing but the shimmering around us, and the sudden unexpected depth in front of us, and the sensation of slowly falling, like flying in a dream.
William Sleator is the best-selling author of Interstellar Pig, The Night the Heads Came, The Beasties, and many other popular chilling novels. Hailed by R. L. Stine as “one of my favorite young adult writers,” Mr. Sleator divides his time between Boston, Massachusetts, and rural Thailand.
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The Boxes Page 14