Fallen (5 page)

The other two boys with Tom looked as though
they were as scared as I was. However, rather than quaking in his
boots, Tom looked right at me. I turned to find his mesmerizing
blue-green eyes fixed upon me as they had been in the prison cell.
Feeling awkward, I lowered my gaze and turned back to the judge
just as the bailiff finished listing the crimes we had been charged
with.

The judge addressed us directly then. “Do
you have anything to say in defense of yourselves?”

Now I had my chance. I could explain to this
man all that had happened to me since coming to London. Surely, he
would understand and sympathize with my plight. Freedom seemed only
a breath away.

I tried to speak—literally opening my mouth
to voice my defense—but no words would come out. I stammered, not
from fear or lack of thought, but from a complete inability to
produce the sound to vocalize. I put my hand to my throat
astonished by my inability to even make a peep.

The judge fixed me with a queer look.
“Bailiff, is this boy a mute?”

“I don’t think so, sir, he was talking up a
storm back in the cages.”

The judge went on to the other boys who also
made no defense. The two on my left seemed completely mystified, as
though in a trance, not even hearing the judge’s question.

His Honor quickly passed on further inquiry
and handed down his judgment. “You clearly have no defense for your
heinous crimes. I therefore sentence you to be hanged by the neck
until you are dead. Sentence to be carried out forthwith.”

My heart skipped a beat as the gavel smashed
onto a wooden block sitting upon the judge’s bench. I had said
nothing—could say nothing. I continued to try, looking as though I
was gagging, but it did no good. I looked at Tom and found him
grinning devilishly at me.

“Having trouble speaking, Mr. West?” He
arched his eyebrow with more than just amusement. Somehow he knew I
wouldn’t be able to speak—somehow he had caused it this to
happen.

The bailiff and two other guards led us from
the small courtroom to another cell. “Wait here.” He smiled,
showing his yellow teeth. “You’ll have your turn as soon as the
ropes are through with the first lot.”

I sat with the other boys upon a wooden
bench. This wasn’t a formal cell, but rather more of a waiting pen.
I knew exactly what we were waiting for and I didn’t like it one
bit. I still could not speak, and Tom had said nothing further to
me. I thought of grabbing the older boy and shaking him, demanding
that he undo whatever he had done to take away my ability to speak.
Still, I had no proof, and he’d already shown himself stronger back
in our cell.

I sat staring at the small barred window
fixed high within the heavy wooden door where the guard had passed
moments before. All I could see were dark clouds hovering over.
However, I heard everything occurring: the charges being read, the
sentence handed down by the judge and the jeers from the assembled
crowd. I knew that crowd. They had to be the same sort of rabble
who had watched with me as the young boy had been hung. How quickly
I had made the journey from spectator-among-the-innocent to
guilty-as-charged and ready to swing for their pleasure.

“Do you suppose it will hurt much?”

I turned to find one of the other boys next
to me rubbing his throat. He looked at me with tears in his
eyes.

“It will be over quickly won’t it?”

I hadn’t been thinking of the pain
necessarily. I remembered how the boy in the square had struggled,
unwilling to surrender his life to the rope. The boys waiting below
him had latched onto his legs in order to add weight and complete
the deed more quickly. I tried to speak again, but remained
mute.

“Course it will, Charlie,” Tom said. “Don’t
blubber about it. Take your dues like a man. That’s what Sinister
would say, ain’t it?”

Charlie looked down as though ashamed. The
jeering crowd called out beyond the cell door leading onto the
courtyard before the jail.

“But then…Sinister’s not the one about the
swing…is he?” Charlie looked at Tom again.

Tom remained impassive, dismissing the
comment with a wave of his hand.

We heard the click and release of the lever
as the crowd grew silent. We heard the floor give way then the
drop. It had probably been my imagination, but I thought I heard a
sickening crack inside my head, as though my own neck had just
snapped out there on the gallows.

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach although
I hadn’t had any food since my kind benefactor had brought me the
mysterious blanket roll with its food, drink and fire. How I longed
to be back there in that moment. I would gladly have traded my
present predicament for a lifetime living in that alley.

The heavy cell door flew open, revealing the
guard who had left us here. “Come on, you lot. It’s time to meet
your maker.” He grinned fiercely. The two other boys made pretense
of resisting. The guard came for them despite their pleas for
mercy. He took them by their manacles and thrust them from the
holding cell into the courtyard where the hands of more guards
waited beyond.

I stood and followed. Tom came after and
then the guard. He pulled a black sack over his head with two cut
eyeholes in the front to peer at us as we marched toward the wooden
gallows. Guards, all in black hoods, flanked our group of four on
either side. Another stood upon the platform at the switch.

I said muted prayers to the Heavenly Father
as we walked. I could not understand how I had supposedly been
chosen for some great work here in London, as the nameless angel
has said, and yet my life was about to end—as a criminal no less.
One thought lifted my spirits. Soon I would see my father again.
Surely he would be waiting with my mother to welcome me into
Paradise. Despite the misjudgments of men, the Righteous Judge knew
the truth and would hold me guiltless of these trumped up
charges.

Our chained wrists clanked as we paraded
before the jeering crowd—a reminder of established guilt and
punishment soon to be executed. Charlie and the other boy shed
their final tears as they walked before me. Somehow I had none.
Soon I would stand in a realm beyond human sight vindicated and
safe with my parents and my Savior. Only the promise of pain kept a
smile from my face.

I knew Tom would not cry. He seemed
fearless—no—disinterested probably described his attitude better.
For all that had happened, the most interesting thing to him had
been our run-in over his eyes and ears. I didn’t look back at him
or acknowledge the stare I felt must be boring into the back of my
skull.

We reached the gallows and began to climb
the wooden stairs. A hooded guard came to receive us in turn. We
crossed the floorboards and I felt them bend. The drop-away floor
no doubt. My eyes shot to the wooden pole protruding out of a
groove in the floor. It held a simple metal catch on a gear.

The guards arranged us in a line. We turned
and faced the crowd. A noose hung before each of us. I looked up to
the crossbeam and saw that there remained two extra grooves where
ropes could be held if needed.

Two hooded guards moved among us in the
line. One of them placed the noose over my neck and pulled out most
of the slack. The rough fibers chafed my skin. This would hurt—I
knew it. There was no going back, no getting out of my fate. I
heard the young boys milling below us, ready to add their weight to
those who struggled. I closed my eyes hoping to drown out the
scene.

Something hit me in the chest. I opened my
eyes as a tomato fell away, leaving its red seedy pulp behind on my
shirt. The crowd began its taunting. I tried to shut them out. They
were wrong, only they didn’t know it. I wondered if this might be
how Christ had felt upon the tree—falsely accused yet going through
with the deed anyway. My end would be quicker and less painful by
far.

“Well, Mr. West, look what you’ve stumbled
into,” Tom said next to me.

I turned my head. Tom grinned at me. Without
his hat, his disheveled hair stood out in all directions. His
pointed ears barely jutted through the tangles into the sunlight. I
decided not to answer him.

He stifled a laugh. “Aren’t you afraid of
dying, Mr. West?” He was badgering me, hoping to get a
reaction.

I couldn’t help myself. “No, I’m not!” My
voice had returned! I leered at him.

He smiled again, more brightly this time.
“Got your tongue back did you?”

“You did something, didn’t you?”

He turned toward the crowd as the charges
began to be read over us. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re
talking about.” He didn’t even try to sound convincing.

My anger grew. I stammered for some better
way to accuse him, but he cut me off, derailing my malice.

“Why aren’t you afraid to die?” he asked,
curiously this time.

I stopped short and thought a moment.
“Because my faith is in the Lord.” My confidence surged now. “No
matter what has happened to me here, I know that upon my leaving I
will go to be with my parents in Heaven. Why should I fear that?” I
was surprised by my answer…not the facts, but the assurance in my
voice.

Tom seemed to consider it briefly before
answering.

“Don’t pack your bags just yet,” he
said.

I was about to ask what he meant by that
statement when I heard the bailiff stop reading and the crowd hush
before us. The moment had arrived already while I wasted my last
breaths bickering with Tom. The hooded man pulled the lever, the
gear turned, the latch gave way and the floor fell away from
beneath my feet. I dropped through, my eyes wide with horror. I
felt the remaining slack in the rope pull tight on my skin. I
looked down as events unfolded before me in slow motion.

Beneath my feet, the children swam like
sharks waiting to grab my legs. Then they were gone—replaced by a
blue sea. The taut rope allowed me to pass through. I fell much
farther than it should have taken to reach the ground. Had I passed
out? Had a mirage of safety taken my frenzied mind away from my
body dangling at the end of a rope before Fleet Prison?

“Hold on, Brody!” Tom shouted gleefully.

I turned my head and found Tom falling
beside me. I hit the water and swallowed a mouthful as I went
under. This was no dream. I fought the waves and struggled toward
refracted light above me. I coughed up water as I breeched the
surface. My hands were free of manacles now, so I paddled my arms
and legs to remain afloat.

Tom came up beside me giggling.

“Woohoo!” He nudged me with a soggy elbow.
“How did you like that? I told you not to pack your bags just
yet.”

I gasped, looking toward the sky, searching
for the hangman’s noose around my throat, the gallows, the hooded
guards and jeering crowd, but found none of these things. All of it
had fled away somehow. My lips trembled. I couldn’t believe what
had just happened.

“Where are we?”

Tom’s giggling subsided as he turned in the
water to face me. “Mr. West, welcome to Faerie.”

Tom and I treaded water as my eyes searched
all around us. There appeared to be no land in sight. The answer
Tom had given me to my inquiry had not registered at all. I had
never even heard of a place called Faerie. But even if I had, I
still would not have believed we were there.

“What happened to London? Why aren’t we
dead?”

I had a lot of questions and began rambling
on without waiting for the answers.

Tom raised his hands out of the water. “Hold
it, hold it.”

I tried to calm down and listen.

“Now,” he began, “You are technically still
in London, but at the same time you are not.”

This answer only puzzled me further, though
by Tom’s expression it seemed like the most logical explanation in
all the world.

“The reason we are not dead is that I’ve
brought you into my realm, my world where most mortals never
venture.”

I tried to piece the puzzle together.

“This place is called Faerie?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Now the ears and eyes, more puzzle pieces,
had something to fit together with. “So, you are not human like
me?”

“Not exactly.” He tapped one of his pointed
ears. “You see, most mortals never notice us. But you’ve got the
sight—you’re special. That’s why I saved you. Mr. Sinister will
want to meet you, Brody.”

“Who is Mr. Sinister?” I asked. “Someone
like you?”

Tom smiled. “Oh, greater than me by far, but
you’ll meet him soon. Now we must carry on.”

Tom made a gesture with his left hand to the
air. I wondered why I should be able to see these things. My
encounter with the angel two nights ago came to mind.

“What about your friend, Charlie, and that
other boy?” I asked. “What happened to them?”

“They’re dead, of course.” Tom didn’t seem
the least bit remorseful.

I thought of another question, but my mind
lost it immediately when I saw thick bare tree branches piercing
the surface of the water behind Tom. They looked like the grisly
hands of some gigantic sea monster rising from the depths. I turned
round and round in the water and saw them coming up on all
sides.

Then the top of a building emerged. Water
cascaded off of a queer looking clock tower. The oblong clock had
at least five different hands all pointing different directions and
moving independently of one another in a manner of timekeeping I
could not fathom. Some of the bare branches suddenly bloomed with
green leaves and pretty pink flowers. Others bloomed in similar
fashion in every color I could imagine.

Ever more came up through the water:
shrubbery and stone walls along with a few other small buildings.
In the far distance I saw even more, but remained too far away to
identify it all. Birds appeared from holes in the trunks of
trees—birds I’d never laid eyes on before. Most took flight as the
water cleared their homes, flapping two wings or four wings or
whatever variety they happened to be. Streams of colored light
trailed behind them as they criss-crossed the sky above.