But the life had seeped out of him before he could escape from his bonds.
It did not matter after all. He was permitted his revenge. He was given another opportunity to eliminate the Cole family from existence—as they had eliminated him. No more scientific men, analyzing his suspicious behavior. No more sheriffs following his every move. No more pretty ladies falling for his flattering words.
At this, his heart squeezed, and a gentle face with piercing blue eyes hovered before him.
He shoved it away; he did not have time for love, only hate. Love did not belong with revenge; hate was its partner. She had been his downfall. She had been his weakness. She had been . . .
He groaned, wailed, keened, the trees bending and twisting in the wind of his grief. Then he turned his attention on what must be done.
It was time.
June 1, 1947
How fitting that I should finish the most important work of my life, an army of steam-powered creations, on my fortieth birthday.
It is time. Tomorrow, in the early-morning hours, I will march my army into the woods, and I will defeat the spirit torturing this home and its people. I entertain no illusions that by my victory I will save my son. I believe he has been in the woods far too long. But I can, at least, save Lenora. And I will.
The future is what matters now, not the past.
My steel and copper men will follow me into the woods in a structure of my own making, pulled by the glory of my scientific career: a robotic rhinoceros (it looks more like a dinosaur, to be accurate) that runs on fire, water, and steam. I will bring, too, my cane, which I have modified in the last months to contain and spit fire—a supernatural kind, a blend of the spiritual and the scientific, unexplainable in its power.
My army and my weapon contain within them enough steam and fire to burn the entire woods—and, most important, the hanging tree, where I believe the spirit resides. It is the tree where he died; the connection must be severed. I hypothesize that its destruction will spit him out so that I can eliminate him with the supernatural fire confined in my cane. I have not tested this; I go in faith: Good always triumphs over evil.
I have planned my escape, but if I cannot make it out . . . well, my sacrifice will be worth it. My affairs are in order, placed in the top left drawer of my desk, in case someone finds this record first. Lloyd and his wife, Nadine, will care for Stonewall Manor, along with Mrs. Jones, until Lenora is of age. Lloyd and Nadine are welcome to live at Stonewall Manor. They always wanted a daughter. I think they will be delighted to have Lenora, and she will be delighted to have them.
Now there is only the cog-wheel clock to watch as it ticks toward the end.
—excerpt from Richard Cole’s Journal of Scientific Progress
THE OPEN DOOR
62
A crash startled Lenora from a deep and dreamless sleep. She sat up in bed, her eyes still filmy. She blinked and looked around. What had she heard? She was sure the walls had shaken. But everything was silent and still. The sun had not even come up yet. Perhaps she was dreaming.
And then the sound came again and shook the foundations of Stonewall Manor. Lenora scrambled from bed and moved to the window. She stared out, but the grounds were mostly dark. The moon was low and large in the sky, its bottom punched out by the treetops. Lenora could see nothing in the woods. They were completely cloaked in black.
Something glinted beneath her, and she pressed her face to the windowpane, straining to see. Something else glinted. She squinted and could just make out the shadows. Something was moving out on the lawn.
She padded out of her room and raced down the stairs. (More accurately, she rode the banister; it was much faster and she didn’t have time to think about what might be chasing her from the darkness of the hall.) She tried to exit the front door, but it was locked tight. She pulled and pushed and jiggled the knob with her hand. She looked under the rug just inside the door. There was no key. She searched the tables that lined the entryway. She picked up all the candelabras, but a key was nowhere to be found.
Had someone locked her inside? She looked back the way she’d come. The house was still sleeping.
A creak sounded in one of the hallways, and Lenora ducked into a corner. Someone was coming. She heard the footsteps thumping in a rapid rhythm, but she could see nothing, it was so dark. Then a pale, ghostly face appeared. Lenora pressed her hand against her mouth as the face drew nearer and nearer. She turned her own face to the wall when the figure reached the entryway. She did not want to see the specter that had come for her.
But the figure passed right by her and put a hand on the door. For a moment, Lenora thought whoever it was might open the door, and she could race out and past it before she was even noticed. But then she saw the long, somewhat crooked fingers tug on the door and fall back.
“I thought I’d locked it.” It was the voice of Mrs. Jones. She sighed. “No one’s getting out or in tonight. Just let them try.”
Lenora stepped from the shadows just as Mrs. Jones turned around. Mrs. Jones let out a startled yelp and pressed her hand to her chest. “Lenora!” She breathed. “You startled me, love. What are you doing down here?”
“I heard something. A crash.”
Mrs. Jones’s face puckered. “Yes, well, I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.” She seemed dismissive, evasive perhaps.
“It sounded like the house exploded,” Lenora said. She could not keep the worry from her voice. Her uncle was a science man; what if an experiment had gone wrong?
“Your uncle is very particular about who visits the east wing,” Mrs. Jones said, as though Lenora didn’t already know that.
“But shouldn’t we check on him?”
Mrs. Jones looked toward the front door and back at Lenora’s face. Finally, she nodded.
When they reached the door to the east wing, it was locked. Mrs. Jones pulled a collection of keys from the pocket of her dress. She searched for one, then held her hand aloft near the keyhole. “It’s so early,” she said. “He will not be in good humor if we wake him. He was never an early-morning person.”
“I heard a crash,” Lenora said. “I want to make sure he’s okay.”
Mrs. Jones nodded and unlocked the door.
Lenora ran down the hallway. It was empty, no white-sheeted robots lining it. She burst through the door of Uncle Richard’s laboratory. A giant hole gaped at her from the far wall. Lenora gasped.
“What is it?” Mrs. Jones cried, rounding into the room. She stopped when she saw the hole in the wall. “What on earth has he done now?”
Lenora did not stay to answer. She launched herself through the opening, hurdling over glass and steel and stone, barely hearing Mrs. Jones calling her back.
She raced toward the woods.
63
Lenora stopped near the border, just inside the woods. She listened, but everything was still and eerily silent. “Uncle Richard!” she called into the hush.
She had to find him. She had to protect him from the dangers of these woods. She had to save Bobby.
She thought about what Bela had said—the creatures and marvels of the forest are dangerous to those with ill intent. Uncle Richard intended to destroy them; what would they do to him?
Lenora felt sick to her stomach, but she had no time to waste.
The birds did not sing. Neither did the flowers nor the trees, so Lenora could not follow their song deeper into the forest. There was no golden or pink light to guide her. She moved from tree to tree, slowly, carefully, unsure what hostilities she might find now that her uncle was inside with his army of robotic men.
Bela seemed to appear from nowhere, in his human-sized form. His pink skin was the darkest she’d ever seen it, a shade that could almost be mistaken for red. “Lenora,” he said. “You should not be here. We are about to engage in a war.”
“Please,” Lenora said. “You cannot.”
“Your uncle has brought danger to our woods,” Bela said. “He has broug
ht fire.”
“Take me to him. I can stop him.”
Would Bela believe the words?
“You know where he has gone.” Bela’s eyes probed hers. She held steady, but she could feel her courage slipping.
“To the tree,” she said.
“You cannot stop him, Lenora. You cannot stop the woods.”
“Tell me what I can do!” She felt desperate to do something. She couldn’t let her uncle die in these woods. She couldn’t be alone again.
Bela considered the trees. “There is something you can do.”
“What?”
“It would make us stronger.”
“And my uncle would be safe?”
“If he agreed to leave us as we are. As we will be.”
Lenora did not fully understand the words, but she said, “I will do anything.” Anything to protect him.
Bela stared hard at Lenora. He gestured. “Come with me, then.” He moved quickly, and Lenora struggled to keep up.
“Please slow down,” Lenora said. She had forgotten her shoes. She thought the grass might be feathery inside the woods, but it was surprisingly prickly.
Bela stopped between two trees and held out his arms. “Would you like me to carry you?” Lenora stared at him for a moment, considering, before she nodded. He picked her up, cradling her the same way Uncle Richard had done when he’d found her outside the woods, and the two of them moved so rapidly the woods blurred around her.
“You have made the right decision,” Bela said. “Your sorrow will no longer plague you. The Master will take it all away.”
The Master. She hadn’t agreed to go to the Master, had she?
She had said she’d do anything.
How would the Master take away her sorrow? Would he make her forget her family, forget the tragedy in Texas City, forget that she’d ever had anything to lose?
“He will reunite you with your family,” Bela said, as though he could hear her thoughts. Had she spoken aloud? Bela laughed. “I can feel your thoughts.” His eyes glowed brighter. “I can feel the deep well of your sadness.” A tear dropped from his eye and landed on the underside of Lenora’s left arm. It burned a pink heart on her skin.
Lenora stared at it.
“I apologize,” Bela said. “I did not mean to burn you.”
Lenora said nothing. She tightened her hold on the back of Bela’s neck. She’d thought he might feel slimy, but his skin was as rough as the bark of a pine tree. She tried not to lean her head on his chest, but she felt so weary.
After some minutes of travel, Bela said, “We are nearly there.”
“What will happen to my uncle?” Lenora said.
“There is not much you can do for your uncle, except urge him to leave us.”
“He has brought a mechanical army.”
“The vines, I believe, are taking care of that.” And, indeed, as they passed the vines that protected the Master’s domain, Lenora saw several robot heads and robot arms. She felt sick to her stomach. She had seen this before, only with real people. She closed her eyes. She could not bear to see Uncle Richard harmed.
“And now,” Bela said, “we are here.” He set Lenora on her feet and moved forward.
“Wait,” Lenora said, placing her hand on his arm. “I must see—”
“There is no time to waste if you want to save your uncle. And Bobby.”
Bobby? The name slammed into her chest.
If she could give Uncle Richard his life and his son, would that not be worth everything?
Lenora stepped forward.
64
The Master was waiting.
“Lenora,” he said, his hand outstretched. This time his voice was higher, like the voice of a young boy.
“John?” she said. It didn’t sound exactly like John’s voice, but it did sound similar.
“Will you come?” the Master said.
“Charles?” she said. But no, it wasn’t exactly Charles’s voice, either. It was a boy’s, but she could not place it.
Maybe . . .
“Save me.” The Master beckoned. She felt the haze clouding her mind. Confusion wrapped around her.
“Bobby.” The name had barely passed her lips when the Master looked at her with his bottomless black eyes.
“Come.”
She could take his hand. It would be easy. She could trade places, step in for Bobby, give him back his life. What did she have to lose?
Still she hesitated. She said, “Your father is here, Bobby. Will you come out?” She glanced toward the dark opening of the tree. She did not want to go in.
“You must come inside,” said the Master in that same childlike voice. “Come inside the tree.”
“What’s inside the tree?” Lenora said.
“I am,” the Master—Bobby?—said.
“What else?” Lenora could not trust the voice completely. It shifted and rearranged according to what it wanted.
The Master was silent.
“What else is inside the tree, Bobby?”
“Nothing to fear,” Bela said in the Master’s place. “I thought you were courageous, Lenora. I thought . . .” He let the words trail off. He nudged her forward, but Lenora wasn’t ready. She stumbled.
“The only way to save me is to enter the tree,” the Master said. He held out his bony hand. It looked like white stone caked with mud in places. “Come.”
Lenora hesitated.
“Take my hand.”
Lenora took a step forward.
“I will take away all your pain and sorrow.”
Lenora stared at the dirty bones that reached for her. She felt Bela’s hand on her back, but she shook it off. If the Master erased her pain and sorrow, would he also erase all the joy and laughter of life? What if she could not hold on to the good memories without the bad ones? Would it be better to erase all her memories of her parents and her brothers and sister, because she could not bear the horrific ones? How could a person bear a life without love, without family, without the memories that wrapped the two together?
Bela said she would be reunited with her family. But how could that be? They were dead.
The realization felt like a fist smashing into her stomach.
She couldn’t go into the tree. She had to remember the way Charles had grinned at her the time she’d told him the answer to his seventh-grade math problem, because she had a mind for mental math. She had to remember the way Rory had banged away on the piano, the same songs over and over and over again until the whole family agreed that it was time for a change. She had to remember John rocking on the porch swing, oblivious to the wondrous painting of another sunset on water because he was more interested in the book he held in his hands. She had to remember the countless kisses and hugs Mother and Father had given her during their thousands of moments together.
She would not erase those memories so that she could escape sorrow.
“I can’t,” Lenora whispered.
“You must, Lenora,” the Master said. “It is already too late.” And this time his voice joined a great gust of air that blasted toward her face. Lenora took a step back. The Master took a step forward. His black eyes practically consumed her. She could not look away, and she found that she could not move another step back. She was pulled steadily forward, a prisoner in the clutches of something dark and dangerous.
65
Something crashed off to her left, and Lenora finally tore her gaze from the Master and saw the most spectacular sight. A massive rhinoceros stood with glowing eyes. Lenora nearly laughed with relief. But then she saw, out of the corner of her eye, the Master moving swifter than she thought possible. He was heading straight for her.
Lenora leaped toward the rhinoceros, and more crashes felled trees and ripped leaves and shook the ground. A thick vine flew through the air and landed at her feet. It writhed like a snake, and she hopped over it, racing toward the rhinoceros.
Toward her uncle.
“Lenora!” Two voices called her, from
opposite sides of the clearing. One belonged to Bela. His eyes were fixed on her, two perfect beams of gold lighting the way for the bog man. And the other belonged to Uncle Richard, who wore a look of horror. He was dressed in a full suit of armor—armor unlike anything she’d ever seen before. He looked just like one of his robots, all gears and copper pieces.
“What are you doing here?” Uncle Richard shouted. He moved his hands frantically. “Get out! Get out of here now!”
“No! I won’t leave you!” She thrust the words in his direction.
“Run, Lenora!” Uncle Richard shouted. “You must get out of here! It’s not safe!”
“Bobby is in there!” She pointed. “He’s in the tree!”
And for a moment, she thought Uncle Richard might reconsider what he was about to do. His eyes softened, and he looked toward the tree, his gaze filled with so much longing that Lenora couldn’t breathe. And then he shook his head. “It’s too late for Bobby,” he said. “It’s too late for me. But it’s not too late for you.”
What did he mean when he said it was too late for him?
“You can’t leave me,” she said. Her voice was small. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing another person she loved.
They were only feet away from each other, but Lenora felt exposed, unsafe. She could feel the stillness behind her, could sense the Master waiting for the right moment. The back of her neck tingled. She had to get out of the way. She had to let her uncle do this.
But she couldn’t. Not if there was a chance.
Something ripped at Lenora’s hair. A voice pierced her ear. “I have you now,” it said. She swung around, wincing at the pain in her head.
“Bela!” Lenora struggled to free herself. “Let me go! Please!”
“I cannot, Lenora,” Bela said, and the trees roared. Her name echoed through the air. She felt her mind cloud.
The Woods Page 20