The Door in the Forest (25 page)

“Please keep your hands out to the side, Captain.… Captain?
Now
!”

Sloper sighed and held his hands out. “You’re getting in deeper and deeper, John. I won’t be able to help you.”

“Arnie,” said Crowley quietly, “would you mind taking the captain’s gun?”

“Wouldn’t mind at all!” Mr. Fish approached the captain cautiously, as he might a copperhead. Circling behind Sloper, he reached out slowly and unsnapped the holster. He was gleeful when he returned to the others.

“You be careful with that, Arnold Fish,” said Min. “I think you better give it to me for safekeeping.”

“It’s safe enough with me, old girl,” he said, turning the pistol from side to side, admiring it. “Unless I get nervous and accidentally shoot his head off!”

Wesley giggled nervously.

“Danny,” said Crowley, keeping his eye and pistol steadily on the captain, “take a look in that bag. See if there’s any rope.”

Daniel rummaged among the tools and found it.

“Good. Can you cut a piece, maybe four feet?” He watched as his son hacked off a length. “Now, while Arnie and I have the captain covered, I’d like you to go behind him and tie his hands. Can you do that?”

The boy nodded. “Sure.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Emily. “His thoughts are jumping all over the place. I can hardly keep track of them.”

“Careful now, son,” said Crowley as the boy circled around.

The captain looked amused at all the precautions. “Don’t be afraid, my friend,” he said as Daniel came up behind him. “I won’t bite you.”

“I’m not your friend.”

“Honest as ever.”

Daniel came closer. “Please put your hands behind you.”

“Listen,” said Sloper, dropping his voice so the others wouldn’t hear, “why don’t you just come with me to the island? We’ll have a grand adventure.”

“Your hands, please.”

“Come on. You know you’ve always wanted to go. They won’t shoot if you’re with me. Then we’ll cut the bridge free and they won’t be able to follow.”

“I’ve already been there.”

“You what!”

“I decided to come back.”

“Very well,” Sloper sighed. “Live your dull little life.” He reached his hands behind him.

Daniel made a slipknot and started to loop it around the captain’s wrists.

Sudden chaos! Sloper caught Daniel’s wrist and spun him around, holding him tightly in front of him like a shield. At the same time, Daniel felt something metallic and very sharp against his neck.

No one moved. They seemed paralyzed.

“All right,” the captain snapped, “listen, everyone. This is how it will be. You’ll drop your weapons and leave. Understand?”

“Don’t you hurt Danny!” cried Gwen.

Crowley held his wife’s arm. He regarded Sloper gravely. “If you harm my son …”

“He’s my ticket out, that’s all.”

“And afterward you’ll let him go?”

“Trust me.”

“
Trust you
?”

“Or don’t. But lay down the gun. You too,” he said, nodding at Fish.

Crowley lowered his pistol and let it drop to the ground. After hesitation, Fish did the same.

“Now get out of here.”

Daniel felt the blade jiggle against his neck as the captain spoke. He tried not to breathe.

He saw his parents back away.

“Looks like we’ll be having our adventure after all,” Sloper murmured, dragging Daniel backward onto the bridge.

There was no handrail or even guide rope to hold on to,
and the whole structure was bowing in the middle under the pressure of the current.

“Let me go!” cried Daniel. He struggled, but carefully: the blade trembled an inch from his throat.

“I don’t think so.”

They were several feet out from land, and already the bridge was bouncing underfoot like a trampoline.

“You don’t want to do this,” Daniel said.

“But I do.” He dragged the boy a few feet farther.

“Listen. It’s not so easy to get to the island. If it were, people would’ve built a bridge long ago.”

“They’re stupid farmers. What do they know?”

When they were halfway across, the bridge dipped under their weight, soaking their shoes and throwing their balance off. They almost went in right then.

“The place is protected!” Daniel cried out.

“What are you gargling about? Come on!”

Daniel had to say it. “
It’s where you go after you die
!”

Sloper paused. “You really can’t lie, can you? You try and you come out with gibberish.”

The bridge swayed and Daniel slipped, landing hard. He lay facedown and held on to the edge of the planking.

“Steady!” Sloper cried. His arms windmilled as he fought to keep himself from falling. It was obvious he couldn’t fight Daniel and still make it across. He took a final look back. “Not coming?”

Daniel shook his head.

“Then
damn
you, Daniel Crowley!” Sloper turned and went on alone, his arms waving about as the planks lifted and fell beneath him.

He was most of the way across when a low growl stopped him cold. At the far end, with fangs bared and lips blackly curled, crouched an appalling white leopard.

Sloper let out a cry, almost losing his balance, but managed to turn and start back toward Everwood. That’s when the little white cat, Mallow, jumped onto the bridge. It stepped on Daniel’s shoulder and walked down his back, its eyes fixed on Sloper. With each step, the creature grew bigger, and finally
huge
—transformed, in fact, into a second leopard as fierce as the first.

The sunset caught a gleam of fear in Sloper’s widened eyes as he stepped backward, his arms flailing and the planks beneath him wobbling dangerously from side to side.

The leopard that had been Mallow crept slowly toward him, its head low.

“Get back!” Sloper shouted. He waved the knife blade threateningly, but it had no effect except to make the bridge quiver and roll. All the stresses began to loosen the lashings, and one of the barrels, then a second, broke free of the rope bindings and floated off.

“Ahh!” Sloper cried, struggling frantically to keep his balance. He teetered a final moment, then tumbled backward into the stream.

The splash he made hitting the water nearly upended the bridge, and Daniel, still on his stomach, gritted his teeth and gripped the planks with all his strength.

His situation abruptly worsened. The lashings fell away entirely, and the boards began separating beneath him. He heard voices shouting to him from shore, but all he could think was that he was now half submerged in snake-infested
water and sinking fast. Desperate, he reached out and grabbed on to one of the floating barrels. It supported him, precariously, but left his legs hanging in the murk, his feet grazing the quicksand.

A second barrel floated within reach, and he managed to pull it against the first, hoisting himself mostly out of the water. Holding the barrels together took all his concentration.

“Son! Son!”

He was finally able to distinguish his father’s voice from the general roaring in his brain.

“Dad!”

“I’m throwing you a rope. Try to grab it!”

Through the twilight air Daniel saw the rope in flight, a brief hieroglyph against the still blue sky, before it splashed into the creek just out of reach.

“Try it again, Dad!”

Mr. Crowley hauled the rope back and again hurled it, this time landing it almost beside the boy. Daniel grabbed it tightly but, in doing so, lost his grip on one of the barrels. The whole lower half of his body sank into the water.

“I’ve got it! Hurry, Dad!”

His father began pulling, hand over hand.

A plank floated by. Then a snake, its head just above the waterline. Daniel froze. And was that another one, just behind the first?

“Hurry, Dad!”

The barrel, with Daniel clinging to it, continued to move toward the shore. But then his foot, dragging along the
muddy streambed, caught on something—a rotted branch or vine, or maybe something worse. His father pulled, but Daniel and his barrel were stuck.

Daniel panicked at the sight of more V-shaped ripples just upstream from him. He twisted his leg around frantically until his shoe came off and he was free.

“Hang on, son!”

“Danny!” It was Emily’s voice. “You’re almost here!”

He was moving again toward shore. Toward her.

“I’m coming!” There were snakes; there was quicksand; but he just looked at Emily. Emily getting closer.

Very close now.

He felt his father’s strong grip on his arm, pulling him up, holding him steady. It was only then that the tears came.

Through blurry eyes, he could see Emily and Wesley. She flung herself against him. “You’re all right? You’re
really
all right?”

Somebody was shouting. “Down there!”

“Where?” called another voice.

A group of townspeople came up, breathing hard, some with lanterns, several with rifles, even one woman shaking a hay fork. They all watched the water in silence as the remnants of the bridge drifted slowly by.

Daniel made his way to the stream’s edge with Emily and Wesley beside him. In the dimming light, the ripples gleamed like oil, reflecting the sky and trees.

“It’s a cursed place,” muttered the young farmer named Paul.

No one contradicted him. All were noticing the
disturbances in the surface, the slow, V-shaped ripples made by the water snakes.

The men held up their lanterns. Most had never been this close to the stream before, barred by thorns and warned away since childhood by scolding parents. Under the swaying light of the lanterns, they could see the heads clearly. Human heads, each one distinct.

As they watched, one snake, larger than others, slid by close to the shore. Daniel gasped. His father stepped back. In later days, the townspeople would argue about what they’d seen, but it was impossible to mistake the features of Captain John Sloper, his eyes glinting, his mouth curled in a serpentine snarl.

“There we go.”

Daniel hefted the heavy volume and opened it on the table. It was an oversized book titled
The Book of Impossibilities
. Only the initials J.B. indicated an author. There was no publisher; in fact, the whole thing was handwritten, in careful calligraphy, with many drawings and diagrams. The last third of the book, the children discovered, consisted of architectural plans for Bridey’s house.

“I don’t get it,” said Daniel. “How’s this book supposed to help us find your grandmother?”

Emily closed her eyes, as if a thought were at the tip of her mind. “I think Grandma meant us to look at the diagrams for this room.”

“Why would you think that?” said Wesley.

“Just a feeling.”

Daniel had already begun leafing through the volume. He stopped when he came to facing pages about the library and pulled the gas lamp closer. His hand trembled. Not
surprising. It was nine-thirty at night, and he was still shaken by the events of the day. If he closed his eyes, he could see the collapsing bridge and the terror in Sloper’s eyes. He tried to concentrate, but the diagrams, arrows, letters, and labels wouldn’t stay still.

“What’s this?” said Wesley, looking over his brother’s shoulder. “It looks like an alcove.”

“So?”

“Look around. Do you see an alcove?”

There wasn’t any.

“It’s supposed to be over there.” Wesley pointed to a shadowy corner of the room, where the bookshelves rose nearly to the ceiling.

The children looked carefully, Daniel feeling along the higher shelves, Emily on her knees. They were almost ready to give up when the girl pulled out a big book on ornithology and felt behind it.

“Ha!” she exclaimed as her fingers found a small, trigger-like projection.

She pushed it. Nothing. Pushed it harder. Nothing again.

Finally, it occurred to her to pull it. There was a metallic cluck, followed by a faint groan, as a wall panel, five feet high, swung open on hinges.

Silently they looked in.

Darkness.

Holding a candle before him, Wesley led the way, shadows dancing along the walls and ceiling. The space was narrow and draped with cobwebs. Papers, books, and yellowing scientific journals filled the shelves above a dusty desk. But there was no room to move around because
covering the floor in the center of the room was a flowered quilt. Sprawled across it lay a large woman. She wasn’t breathing.

“
Grandma
!” cried Emily.