May Bird and the Ever After (20 page)

“Whoa,” May breathed. Pumpkin started to inch back toward her.

They were in a tunnel that led into shadows up ahead, the ceiling just barely arching above Pumpkin's hair, so that he stooped slightly.

“These tunnels are very ancient,” Pumpkin pointed out. “Some of these skulls are thousands of years old.”

May was impressed. Maybe she had underestimated Pumpkin. “How can you tell?”

“Look.”

He pointed to a skull down at the level of his thigh. Somebody had carved into it with a tiny, sharp instrument:
NEBUCHADNEZZAR WAS HERE
.
APRIL
4, 103.

Pumpkin started skipping along ahead. “Pumpkin, be careful.” He looked perplexed.

“You should let me lead. I have the starlight.”

They trudged forward, May lighting the way with her light, following the winding of the tunnel.
A
few minutes later they reached a spot where it forked off into two branches. She pulled out her compass. “Nine Knaves Grotto is between here and the city. So if we're headed toward the city, we're headed toward the grotto.” May held up the compass toward the tunnel on the left. The needle tipped very definitely to Wrong Way.

“What about this one?” she asked, holding it up in the direction of the other tunnel. The needle tipped to Scenic Way.

“Well.” May sighed. She remembered her mom's scenic routes, when they'd drive out into the counties that neighbored Briery Swamp to look for antiques, staying off the highways.
What I
wouldn't give for one of those boring trips now,
she thought. Somber Kitty had always tried to sneak into the car in some way—jumping into Mrs. Bird's huge purse or leaping onto the roof of the car. Why hadn't May just let him come?

She choked back the lump in her throat. May didn't really want the scenic route now, but that seemed to be the only choice.

For hours they followed the twists and turns of the caves, May listening for the sound of anything that might be sharing the Catacombs with them. It was much cooler in here, and May shivered. “It's weird being in here without the sky for so long,” she said to Pumpkin, who drifted along tentatively a few feet behind her. Every time she waited for him to catch up and walk beside her, he fell back, pretending his shoe was untied or acting like he'd seen something interesting on the ground, until May was again safely in the lead.

May had been hoping the caves would lead them back out into the open before it was time to sleep. She worried that her compass might be wrong, and that they would end up going farther and farther into the heart of the cliffs and never come out again.

The route they were taking did seem to run parallel to the Dead Sea, though there was no telling for sure. Finally they were too tired to go any farther without at least a little sleep. She and Pumpkin lay right down in the middle of the tunnel. There was nowhere else to go. “I hope we get out of here tomorrow,” she said.

“Me too. This place gives me the creeps.”

In the glow of May's starlight, Pumpkin and May looked at each other.

“I'm glad I'm not alone in here.”

Pumpkin nodded. “Me too.”

May crossed her arms, squeezing her elbows. “I wish I had a blanket.”

She tried to snuggle closer to Pumpkin, but his body was colder than the tunnel was. At least the zapping had faded. May guessed she had gotten used to it.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “Ghosts are just cold.”

“That's okay.”

May snuggled close to him anyway.

“Pumpkin?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Thanks for coming with me.”

She smiled at him, and he smiled a jagged smile back. It looked more like a grimace. Then she blew out her starlight.

“May?”

May was shaken awake by the shoulders. When she opened her eyes, she saw Pumpkin leaning over her, frowning. He held the starlight in one hand.

“What is it?”

“Look.”

Pumpkin pointed to a spot beside May's hip.

By the dim glow of the light she saw a big black lump in the sand right beside her. May scrambled back a few paces, walking like a crab.

“That wasn't there last night,” she said nervously, suddenly wide awake.

Pumpkin nodded.

She snapped her head up and down the tunnel, as if she
might see who had left it there. But the tunnel was black beyond a few feet.

“What is it?”

Pumpkin kept silent, inserting one finger into his mouth.

“How do you think it got here?” Again, nothing . . . except the rattle of Pumpkins teeth. They knelt on the sand, staring at it, as if it might leap up and bite them.

May reached toward the object slowly. But nothing. Her fingers landed on it gently. It was made of fabric, the softest, silkiest fabric May had ever touched.

“I think . . .” May lifted it gently, then began to unfold it. “Pumpkin, it's a blanket.”

They both gave each other a meaningful look, their eyes wide. Then May peered up and down the tunnel. “Do you think someone heard us?” she whispered. “Last night?”

It was too much of a coincidence. May's stomach felt heavy.

She pulled the blanket onto her lap and unfolded it all the way.

Glowing green strands of embroidery formed themselves along the top edge, where the blanket came to a silky black border. She ran her fingers along the stitches as they appeared, curving around themselves in cursive letters.

For May. Remember to stay warm.

May gasped, then peered up and down the cave again.

Whoever it was, they were gone.

“What does it say?” Pumpkin asked, staring at the words.

“Here.” May held it out toward him. Pumpkin held up his hands in a stop motion.

“Reading is a lot of work. . . .” He sighed loudly for emphasis.

May sighed back and read the words to him. Then they sat staring at the blanket, thinking.

“Who do you think left this?”

Pumpkin shrugged, then his eyes lit up. “Maybe you have a secret admirer,” he ventured.

May rolled her eyes. “I don't think so. Maybe it's from Arista . . .” She looked at Pumpkin hopefully, but he was shaking his head so hard that the tuft of hair on top of his skull swayed.

“Arista wouldn't leave his bees,” he said. “And he doesn't like surprises.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn't be him.” Arista didn't seem like the type who would follow them into a tunnel and leave mysterious blankets on the ground for them to find either.

May looked down at the blanket. She reached a hand toward it and undid the last fold. Then she gave into the impulse to pull it around her shoulders.

The world around her went from dark to bright. May blinked, holding one hand up in front of her eyes. And then . . .

“Oh, my gosh.”

May had to blink several more times. “Oh, my gosh.”

She was in her bedroom back home, sitting on her bed and wrapped in the blanket. There were her pictures of Egypt and Samoa. There was her desk and her bookshelf. Above, her wind chimes tinkled. She reached out and touched them. They were real.

May looked around for Pumpkin, but he was nowhere to be seen. Then she sat forward to peer out her window. There was the view of the front yard and the woods beyond. “Mom?!” she yelled. “Kitty!”

She hopped up, ran to her bedroom door, threw it open, and froze. There was nothing coming from the other side but orange light.

“May?” A voice called. May didn't answer. She didn't want to.

And then the world around her went dark again, and she was facing Pumpkin, who held the blanket in his arms. “What happened?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” May said, trying to shake the image of her house.

“You looked like you fell asleep.”

May took the blanket from his hands. “I was home!”

May pulled the blanket around her shoulders again, and once again she was in her bedroom. She reached for her bedroom window and opened it, but when she did, the familiar view disappeared, becoming the orange light again. She pulled the blanket off again, and she was in the cave.

That's when she noticed a little white tag hanging off the bottom of the blanket. In awe May read it out loud: “This comfort blanket was handcrafted by the Spirits of North Farm.”

“Oooh,” Pumpkin said. “The Spirits of North Farm. Lucky.”

May held the blanket out at arm's length. “North Farm,” she repeated, unsure as to whether it meant she was lucky or not. In fact it made her feel guilty. Caught.

“I wonder why they would send you a blanket.”

May ran her fingers along the words again:
Remember to keep warm.
She wondered whether she could trust Pumpkin with her secret. “There's someone who sent me a letter in Briery Swamp. I guess it could be from her.”

Pumpkin looked hurt. “I wonder why she didn't send me one.”

May cleared her throat. “The Undertaker said she might have
taken an interest in me. That maybe I have someone on my side.” May didn't say that the Lady had also asked for her help. She was too ashamed. She hunched her shoulders as if the Lady were in the cave with her, watching her, disappointed. The scary part was this blanket made it seem possible.

Pumpkin considered. “I hope she's on my side too. I always wanted my own blanket.” He looked at May pitifully.

It was such a very Pumpkin look that May couldn't help but smile.

A few minutes later they were on the move again. May reached into her knapsack every once in a while to sink her fingers into the soft velvet of her blanket, reassuring herself it was still there. She had tucked her letter and her picture in alongside it, and she ran her hands over those too. It all made her feel closer to many things that were far away, and that made her smile.

Up ahead, Pumpkin seemed to be in good spirits. He was singing some kind of cheerful tune. “When
we met, after you crashed in that jet, I thought you were the one for
meeee.
You floated my way, all filmy and gray, and I just had to say gee.”

May wondered about it being a love song. Did spirits fall in love? She didn't see why not. But Arista had said spirits didn't grow or change. Did that mean they couldn't? She was in such a good mood, she didn't ask Pumpkin to keep his voice down, forgetting that someone or something might be in the caves, listening.

“You say banshee, I say bogey, let's call the whole thing off . . .”

May was reaching around to touch her blanket again when a sound made her pause. It was faint at first, and then louder,
click
clack click clack.
The skulls on the walls all around them were shaking and rattling. May leaned toward Pumpkin. “We . . .”

Ha ha ha ha ha.

The laugh echoed through the tunnel. It was high and delighted, like a child's. Pumpkin's knees began to knock together. “What's that?” he whispered.

“I don't—”

Suddenly May could see her shadow on the ground in front of her, growing larger and larger. She turned around just in time to see a white flash zooming down the tunnel before it hurtled past them, blowing their hair back and careening off the walls before disappearing into the darkness ahead.

May and Pumpkin both flattened themselves against the wall, breathing hard and peering up and down the tunnel. They stayed that way for several minutes. Nothing stirred. The skulls had all gone quiet.

“I think we'd better get out of the caves as soon as possible,” May said.

Pumpkin didn't sing any more after that.