The Door in the Forest (12 page)

A glance back: no sign of flames—good—back door opening—bad—and a man running wildly out, a silhouette
against the porch light. Daniel jumped on the bike. The man raised his arm as if pointing. There was a brief flash and a
thunk
as a bullet tore into the maple tree beside the boy’s head. That was the end of thinking for a while. The bike skidded on loose dirt but righted itself as Daniel pedaled madly, the roadside bushes crowding him, whispering
Hurry
! as he rushed on through the dark.

What have I done
?

Sweat blurred his vision, but he could make out something up ahead coming toward him. With his forearm he wiped his eyes.

A bicycle.

“Wes!”

The younger boy skidded to a stop. “Danny! What’s going on?”

“Trouble. They’re coming after me.”

“What? Slow down. Who’s after you?”

Daniel turned his head and saw a vague glimmer behind him, growing brighter. “Quick! Get off the road!”

“Danny …”

Daniel slid off his bike and pulled it into the bushes, his brother right behind him.

“Get down!” Daniel yelled in a whisper, just as the captain’s staff car hove into view. It swerved past, spitting up dirt.

Cautiously the boys stood.

“Danny, what in the world …?”

“I did something stupid.”

“Kind of looks that way.”

“We’ve got to find Emily.”

The two of them started pedaling. Twice, as they approached the Byrdsong place, they had to veer into the bushes when cars roared by.

Finally, they abandoned their bikes in the underbrush and set out on foot through the trees. They made a wide circle around the house, keeping low, till they found the way. The underbrush grew thicker, but dawn was coming, vague light filtering through the foliage. The boys could see occasional broken twigs and scuff marks in the leaf mold.

“This way,” Wesley whispered.

Daniel stopped. “There’s no way Grandma Byrdsong could get through here.”

“I know.”

“Then what are we doing?”

“We’re following Emily.”

“Why would she …?”

His brother was pushing ahead, not listening. Daniel followed.

The thorn trees grew more thickly as the boys got closer to the stream. Finally, they had to go on hands and knees, ignoring as best they could the pricks of brambles and the sharp-edged stones. From the bent thistle stalks, they could see that someone had come this way recently. Not far ahead, the stream was making quiet shuffling sounds, like an old man going through his papers.

A minute later, they broke through the last barrier of thorns. Mist, like a smoke screen, rose from the sluggish water.

“You all right?” Daniel whispered. “Your cheek is bleeding.”

“You’re not so pretty yourself.”

They looked around. Bent grasses.

“Emily?” whispered Wesley.

No answer. They followed the stream.

Thirty feet ahead they saw a dark bundle at the edge of the water. It was Emily, sitting with her legs drawn up.

“Hey,” said Daniel softly.

She didn’t look at him. In her lap, mewing piteously, was a white cat.

Daniel crouched. Wes stood a few feet back.

“That’s her favorite, isn’t it?” Daniel said. “The one called Mallow?”

She turned toward him and nodded, shaking loose a tear from her brimming eyes. “And look.” She pointed to a deep indentation at the water’s brink. A small, square hole. Daniel remembered Bridey’s sturdy, square-heeled shoes.

He looked across the stream. V-shaped ripples slid slowly by, revealing a horrible-headed snake. It continued on past, its body a waving shadow beneath the surface.

The three friends started back. They’d been up all night and were exhausted. It was especially hard going for Emily, who refused to have anyone else carry the cat. The creature was somehow a part of her grandmother, maybe all there was left, and she wasn’t going to let go of it.

“Hey,” she called out.

Daniel turned.

“Did we just go through some poison ivy or something? My shoulder’s itching really fierce.”

“Poison ivy, poison oak, lots of stuff. But you’ve got long sleeves.”

“It feels like my shoulder’s burning up.”

“Let’s get you to the cave,” said Daniel. “We’ve got that first-aid kit.”

“Why not the house?”

He shook his head. “Later.”

They struggled on. The cat was the only one comfortable, secure in the crook of Emily’s arm. Gradually thorn
trees were replaced by oaks and beeches, and thistles gave way to rocks and moss. Sunlight was now hitting the tops of the taller trees and beginning to shinny down the trunks, turning the woods golden.

“This way,” said Daniel, cutting east.

They continued in silence. Daniel saw Emily wince, but she didn’t say anything. At last, they reached the hill leading up to the cave.

“Is it bad?” he said.

“Let’s just get up there.”

They started climbing, Wes leading the way, his brother bringing up the rear. They were relieved to see that the campsite hadn’t been disturbed.

“This is supposed to help with itches,” said Daniel, unscrewing a tube of white ointment from the medicine kit. “Let’s take a look.”

She hesitated, but then set the cat down and turned away and undid the top few buttons. Daniel pulled the material away from her shoulders.

He paused.

“Aren’t you going to put it on?” she said.

“Um, this is not poison ivy. And it’s not thorns.”

“Definitely not thorns,” said Wesley.

“Does everybody have to look at me?” said Emily, blushing.

“Seems to me,” said Daniel with a smile, “you’ve got a bad case of freckles.”

“I do
not
have freckles!” protested Emily. “I’ve never had freckles.”

“Well, you have them now.”

“Freckles don’t burn.”

“Wait.” He examined her shoulder blades closely. Something about the pattern struck him as familiar, the spray of brownish dots swirling like a constellation across her back from one shoulder to the other.

“What?” she said, irritated. She wasn’t used to having a boy—two boys!—staring at her bare skin.

“Emily,” he said quietly. “You’re not going to believe this, but these freckles look an awful lot like that map of yours.”

“What?” She pulled the top of her dress tight and buttoned it. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It
does
look like the map. Only … different.”

“Only different.”

“Let me look again.”

“No!”

“It looks like the map, only changed around somehow.”

“Daniel Crowley—”

“I wish I had a mirror. I could show you.”

“I can’t believe you’re being so crazy. God! I just lost my grandmother!”

“I know.” Actually, he hadn’t been able to believe that Bridey might be dead. His mind had put that possibility aside.

“And this,” Emily went on angrily, looking back at her shoulder, “whatever it is—is burning like crazy!”

“Sorry. Look. Let me put the stuff on.”

“No more crazy talk!”

“I promise.” Daniel and Wesley looked at each other.

Grudgingly Emily undid the buttons again, and Daniel carefully smeared on the ointment. “Better?”

She expelled an irritated little sigh. “Maybe.” The cat
was sniffing at the stones around the fire pit. “Now,” she said, pulling the cat onto her lap, “anyone want to tell me why we didn’t just go to the house?”

Wes looked at his brother. “You’d better tell her. Actually, I’m not too clear on it, either.”

Daniel sat on a stone and leaned his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. “Captain Sloper …,” he began, and paused. “I got him pretty mad at me.”

“I thought you were his teacher’s pet,” she said, rather meanly. “Telling him everybody’s secrets.”

“Dan’s not kidding!” said Wes. “You should’ve seen those soldiers running around trying to find him.”

“What did you do?” she said tightly.

Daniel rubbed his forehead. “Okay. Here’s the thing.”

He told the story as simply as possible, making no excuses. Excuses would have felt like lies, and his nervous system wouldn’t have put up with that. When he finished, even the cat was still.

“So,” she said slowly, “you got a madman trying to kill you,
and
you burned up the map.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” said Wesley.

“Who cares whose fault it is? How are we supposed to get to the island?”

Another silence, this one broken by the cat’s weak meow. It probably hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

“Emily,” said Daniel, “we may have a map after all.”

“Don’t start about that.”

“If we could only get a mirror so you could see …”

“Why do you keep doing this?”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Of course not.”

“But, Emily, don’t you see? I’m the only person you can
always
believe.”

She looked down at the cat. The cat looked up at her and mewed.

“We’ve got to feed this thing.”

Daniel watched her.

“We’ll take her back to Grandma’s house,” she said. “I’ll go in by myself.” She looked at the brothers. “While I’m at it, I suppose I can take a look in a mirror.”

“Great!” said Daniel.

“And can you bring back some paper and a pencil?” Daniel’s kid brother was always practical.

“What for?”

“We might need to copy down your freckles.”

She looked at him and shook her head. “You’re as crazy as your brother.”

Wesley smiled. He didn’t at all mind being called crazy.

Emily breezed into the house through the big front door to find four soldiers in the parlor talking in low tones.

“Hello, everybody,” she said.

Only one of the soldiers looked up.

“I found Mallow in the woods,” said the girl.

No one was paying attention.

“Had any luck?” she asked.

“Luck doing what?” said one.

“Finding my grandmother.”

“Not yet.”

Emily frowned. They weren’t looking for her grandmother. They weren’t
thinking
of looking for her grandmother. After last night’s flurry of concern, they’d moved on to other things.

She went past into the kitchen and got out the dry cat food for Mallow. The poor creature did figure eights around her ankles and cried loudly as Emily filled the dish.

“There you go.” She stood back and watched the cat attack the food, closing its eyes in concentration as it crunched loudly. Soon other cats appeared, a big gray and an orange-and-black tabby with a white nose.

Emily set out a bowl of fresh water, then grabbed a banana for herself and hurried upstairs. Sunlight poured in through the spring window. Why hadn’t she just left the map there, where it was safe?

She looked around. On the night table lay a yellow pad and a couple of pencils. She slipped them into her crocheted shoulder bag. Then she touched the photograph of her mother for luck, as she always did when she went out, and headed down the stairs.

“Now, where do you think you’re going?”

A large-bellied sergeant named Dominick blocked the door as Emily was hurrying across the front hall. With his bulbous forehead and cheeks disfigured by smallpox, he was the one soldier Emily always tried to avoid.