Spirits in the Park (38 page)

A commotion at their feet caught their attention. A familiar rat ran up to their feet.

“Clarence!” Fritz cried, climbing down to the ground. “Am I glad to see you! Where's Sergeant Kiffer?”

Clarence began to chitter, and Fritz listened intently.

“Toy! You found Toy!” Fritz was astounded. “Bridget is okay! She's with Toy and Sergeant Kiffer. They're going to do some sort of rescue mission; apparently it's a long story. And then Bridget is going to try to release . . .” Fritz lifted his head to the others, his jaw dropping. “To release Abigail from her prison,” he finished in awe. “Bridget was right all along. Abigail is still alive.”

A gasp behind them signaled that the others had heard.

“Saints preserve us,” Mr. Hennessy said. “Can it really be?”

“Olathe,” Buck breathed, overcome.

Everyone who had known Abigail Hamilton was frozen with shock, so Alexa immediately took charge.

“This changes everything. We have to tell the Mayor. Wampage, do you still have the belt hidden in Inwood Hill Park? Good. Race up and grab it. We'll meet you at Columbus Circle, at the park's main entrance.”

“I'll go back to the park,” Rory said.

“No!” Alexa shook her head firmly. “It's too dangerous for you. Fritz will go alone. He and Bridget will tell the Munsees that Buck is alive. Simon, you go let Nicholas know what's going on. He'll get word to the Mayor. I'll stay with Rory. We'll all meet up at the Circle.”

Buck glanced up in a daze.

“I will see her again?”

“Yes, old friend,” Mr. Hennessy clapped him on the shoulder. “I guess we all will.”

“Thank you,” Buck said to Rory's dad. “I know I have cursed you for making me live on without her. But now . . . thank you.”

“It was the least I could do,” Mr. Hennessy replied. Rory could see his father was touched. Mr. Hennessy turned to the rest of them. “So what do I do?”

“Stay with your son,” Fritz said. “He needs you.”

As Simon ran off in one direction, Wampage in another, and Fritz in a third, Rory wondered if that was true. Did he need his father? Looking into the sad eyes of the man from the picture, he had to admit, he had no clue.

As the storm clouds gathered in the distance, the word began to spread: the Trap was falling. From the docks outward, the news bounced from spirit to spirit, god to god, covering the island in a matter of hours. Some were angry and terrified that their old adversaries were about to return. Others felt peace wash over them as they realized that the decades of guilt were almost at an end. A few understood that the real test was just beginning. And everyone heard that it was all going to begin at Columbus Circle. And so, little by little, they began to gather there, to see it through.

Kieft heard the rumors and he smiled with the knowledge that his plans were working so well. The minute he'd sensed the storm coming, he'd sent word to his ally in the Munsee camp. Once Tackapausha learned that the Trap was about to fall, Kieft knew the Sachem would not disappoint him.

The sky darkened as Tackapausha gathered his people to him. Askook stood at his side, his snake-ridden face impassive. Tackapausha, on the other hand, appeared to be a man possessed.

“Our time is at hand!” he cried, and many of his warriors cheered. The rest of the Munsees muttered uneasily, their hope for a release from this prison warring with their misgivings with what was to come. Sooleawa couldn't blame them. She scanned the trees one last time; no Soka, no Abigail, no one. No one was coming. She was a pebble in the stream now, and she could not turn aside the flood.

“We must head south. The Trap is falling, as foretold by the demon, and now it is time for our revenge.”

“But the demon told us other things as well,” Chogan cried out, the tanner's voice carrying across the crowd. “She warned us against this obsession with revenge.”

“If those who wronged us lie prone on the ground when we emerge, then there is no need for revenge,” Tackapausha told him. But Sooleawa could tell that the Sachem did not want things to end so easily. He'd been hurting for a century and a half; someone had to pay for that pain. Her son, Tammand, stood near the Sachem, watching his leader with shining eyes. How had she lost him? He hadn't even been born when the Mayor betrayed them. Was such intense hate so easily passed on? Sooleawa could not see how this would end happily for her people. She would just have to hope Soka survived to pick up the pieces.

Tackapausha gave the word and the entire Munsee nation began to move south. They'd be at the entrance to the world outside in an hour. What happened after that, Sooleawa could not foresee.

Bridget and her friends approached the bridge, staying safely within the trees. Sergent Kiffer rode upon her shoulder, while Toy mutely walked a step behind. She didn't know what to expect from the paper boy; she hoped he'd help when the time came. Tucket had recovered enough to limp at her side. She planned to make certain the tawny dog didn't get involved with this rescue attempt. He'd done enough already.

The sky was darkening above them and the wind began to pick up as they reached the bridge, staying out of sight. They could hear Pierre muttering to himself under the arch. He was probably halfway down the passage, where he could see in both directions. So there'd be no sneaking up on him. What to do? Stumped, she glanced down at Sergeant Kiffer, who stood staring up at her, awaiting orders. With his helmet on, he looked terrifyingly huge. An image flashed in her mind, the memory of meeting Pierre in his dank little shack—and the way he'd reacted when he first spied Hans. An idea presented itself, and she began to smile.

A few minutes later, she stepped out onto the path, right where Pierre could see her.

“Hi, Pierre!” she called out. Pierre spun around, eyes wild, training his pistol on her.

“You!” he exclaimed, taking a step toward her. Not enough, she thought. She needed him closer.

“I give up,” she said, the wind whipping her paper hair in every direction as if she were Medusa. She must truly look like a demon, she thought. “You've got all my friends, so you win! I'll tell you the truth.”

“The truth?” he asked, taking another step toward her. “And what is the truth?”

“The cave was full of Kieft's treasure.”

“I already know that!” Pierre took another step toward her. Almost, she thought. He gestured wildly with his gun. “Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?”

“Why would we want to share with you?” she asked, goading him further. “You weren't smart enough to find it on your own. Why should we give you any? You don't deserve it.”

“Don't deserve it!” Pierre took another step, coming out from under the bridge into the open air. “I suffered for that treasure! That is my treasure. And you won't take it from me.”

He took his last step, pointing the gun at her. But he never got the chance to fire.

“Geronimo!” Sergeant Kiffer yelled as he dropped from the edge of the bridge directly onto Pierre's astonished face. And the freak-out she'd witnessed in Pierre's shack at the sight of Hans paled in comparision to the dance of horror that unfolded when the huge roach landed on the old trapper's forehead.

“GET IT OFF ME GET IT OFF ME GET IT OFF ME!” Pierre screamed, clutching at his face in sheer terror. He ran in crazed circles, shaking his head violently, trying to dislodge the huge roach from his head. But Kiffer had grabbed hold of his hair and his ears. The battle roach was not giving in. He rode Pierre's forehead like it was a rodeo bull.

“You're mine, you little weasel!” Sergeant Kiffer cried as he held on. “I ain't going nowhere!” And despite Pierre's frantic attempts, Kiffer's words held true.

Bridget tore herself away from the sight and ran under the bridge. She threw open the hidden door as Toy reached her side, and together they tore at the bonds that held their friends.

“Thank you, Bridget!” Soka cried, climbing to her feet. Finn followed, helping the old Sachem Penhawitz find his balance. “We owe you our lives.”

Bridget blushed with pleasure. “Let's get out of here.”

They turned to leave the bridge, where Pierre still struggled with Kiffer. Rain had begun to fall as the wind picked up. A particularly strong gust hit them, knocking Kiffer right off the trapper and into the bushes. Pierre staggered, but did not fall, turning to face his former prisoners, still clutching his ancient gun.

“No!” he cried, gesturing wildly with his pistol. “You will not keep me from my treasure! I've waited too long!”

He trained his gun on the first person he saw through the rain, who happened to be Soka. A look of fear came over Finn's face and he raced toward his grandfather.

“Grandfather, don't hurt her!” he cried. Just as Finn reached the gun, his hand pushing the barrel of the pistol into the air, Pierre pulled the trigger. But the old pistol, wet from the rain, finally gave in to its advanced age, and instead of firing a bullet into the sky, it exploded into a million pieces, covering both Pierre and Finn in shrapnel. They fell to the ground in a tangled heap, smoke drifting lazily above them as the boom of the gun's self-destruction echoed into the distance.

With a cry, Soka ran to the two prone bodies, falling to her knees at their sides. Pierre was groaning, the old man crying as he clutched his smoldering, ruined hand in pain. But Finn was in far worse shape, his chest a mess of burns and blood.

“That was so stupid!” Soka scolded him, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of Finn's broken body.

“I couldn't let him hurt you.” Finn smiled weakly, and then dissolved into a fit of coughing. “Not you, Soka. Not you.” He shuddered once, his eyes opening wide, and then he went still.

“He saved me,” Soka whispered, crying in the rain. “Oh, Finn. I'm so sorry.”

“It's over, Soka,” Penhawitz said, his hand on his niece's shoulder. “We must go. His sacrifice must not be in vain.”

“Finn.” Pierre was whimpering. “I never meant to . . . why did you get in the way!”

“Will you watch him?” Soka asked Sergeant Kiffer, wiping her eyes. “You and Hans. I don't think he'll give you much trouble.”

“Of course,” Kiffer promised. “You can count on us.”

Soka turned to Bridget and the others, her face stone.

“Come,” she said. “We must find my mother. She will know what to do about Abigail.”

Bridget and Penhawitz nodded, and they took off down the path, leaving the man whose greed had caused such misery broken by the ruination of his schemes.

AT THE GATE

W
hen they reached Columbus Circle, Alexa guided Rory and his father to the large shopping mall across from the entrance to the park.