The Wilds (Reign and Ruin 1) (10 page)

God, this
kitchen is so small . . .

I sat down at
the table slowly and put my head in my hands, trying to quell the
rising panic in my chest. What the hell was happening to me?

In the dark of
the forest, Lucky Creek was a haven from Cirrus, and Tyler a
bumbling, mourning father. But in the light of day . . . it was
suffocating.

I looked at the
clock and the early hour. I couldn't stay for some festival. Last
night it had seemed kind of fun, but an urge was itching though my
limbs to move forward so intensely I wanted to physically scratch
it. It felt like the Walk was on pause but in reality, this all
counted towards my time. I couldn't find someone I wasn't looking
for.

I'm sure
Tyler will understand
, I said to myself, bracing my palms on
the table.
He's what Marty was telling me about: an ally. I'll
tell him now. Get it over with.

As I walked out
of the kitchen into the downstairs hallway to his office, I noticed
that Tyler had dropped one of his papers on the way to the office.
It was lying by the hall table like a half-curled dead spider.

In black
markings was the outline of a person, with certain curious
markings. Arrows pointed to places such as the elbows and knees and
little notes were scratched on the side. In red pen a girl's
haircut and dress had been drawn over the figure.

I frowned. It
looked like a drawing of a costume designer or dressmaker. It
certainly didn't look like a plan for a festival tent or stage. A
piece of cloth had been pinned to the edge of the paper, as if
Tyler did indeed intend to make a costume. It was a dark blue with
small, white flowers.

I walked down
the hall to the office door. I knocked and waited.

"Come in."

Tyler's office
was nothing more than a small room with a desk and thin rug. His
papers were spread out across the surface in a busy, attractive
manner and he was marking up another plan with his red pen. He
looked up pleasantly.

"Is there
anything I can do for you?" he asked. I rocked forward on the balls
of my feet.

"You dropped
this in the hall." I opened the page to show him. "Do you sew?" I
didn't wait for him to answer and therefore, didn't see his face
suddenly darken. "Look, Tyler, I'm so sorry but I'm starting to
feel as if I –"

He stood up
from his desk quickly and his chair pushed back against the wood
with an almighty screech. The sound stopped me mid-sentence and the
room was suddenly plunged into a feeling of dark shadow.

Tyler was
hunched above his desk, his jaw working furiously.

Tick tock, tick
tock . . .

I lurched back
in confusion as Tyler strode over and snatched my wrist, wrenching
the paper from my hands.

"Ow, Tyler!" I
exclaimed.

"Don't you ever
look at my papers again," Tyler said in a low voice. "They are for
my eyes alone."

"You're hurting
me." His animosity had me pinned to the floor, frozen there staring
at Tyler's cold, furious face. "Please let go," I whispered.

"Did you read
it?" Tyler asked, his voice shaking. I hurriedly shook my head.
"You saw nothing?" His eyes were so angry and frightened, like an
animal backed into a corner. His lips trembled as his fingers
tightened around my wrist painfully. I whimpered pathetically and
with a snort he threw back my wrist like it burned. "Do you have
any idea what I would have had to do if you had read that paper?"
He said quietly.

We looked at
each other. I was going to be sick.

"No. No, I
don't suppose you do." He pointed to the door dismissively. "Get
out now."

I turned around
quickly and ran out of the office and up the stairs. My mind
fleetingly screamed
Front door! Front door!
but my feet took
me down the hall back into my room. The comforter was scrunched in
an untidy heap on the bed where I had left it. I threw myself
headfirst onto the mess and let my heart slow down.

What the hell
was that?

I felt
confused. And hurt. But most of all genuinely terrified. I had seen
a rage in Tyler, a rage that was so unlike the cheeriness and
normality that I had liked about him. I rubbed my throbbing wrist
and cringed, remembering his eyes; those wild, cold eyes that
scrutinized how much I could have seen. How much I understood.
Understood of what? A stupid costume?

The coal man
flashed across my mind and my head snapped up, convinced his face
would be at the window. But it was only the clear, blue sky that
looked back at me through the glass.

What had he
done? Tipped over the box?

Sitting up, I
felt around under the comforter. Where was it?
Where is
it?!

My heart raced
as I threw aside the comforter and pillows, I don't know why. I
spotted the box lying closed on the floor by the edge of the bed
and scooped it up from the ground. My hands trembled as I slowly
cracked open the top and let the smell of sweet tobacco wash over
me. Buried underneath the soft brown leaves were those photographs
that I hadn't bothered to look at. The white edges peeked out
innocently but I was too scared to pick them up.

My arms moved
on their own accord, jerking the open wooden box upside down onto
the bed like throwing an angry wasp out the window. The contents
spilled across the white bed sheet, scattering clumps of tobacco
and the backs of antique photographs with scrawled writing. I
quickly flipped them over. And as my heart turned cold and my eyes
clouded over, I moved quickly to the side of the bed to avoid the
faces.

The faces. The
dozen or so faces of little girls sat patiently on benches by
ornamental ferns. Each dressed in the same dress. The same white
ankle socks and the same plaited hair, parted down the middle in a
clean, straight line. Each unsmiling.

I slowly turned
to the back of the photos again to read the writing, my eyes
struggling to focus but then more and more as each name started to
run together.

Tilly.
Elizabeth. Bettie. Mary-Lou. There was even a Margaret like me.

All of these
girls. Where did they come from and why did Tyler have their
pictures in his bedroom? And where were they?

'
She drank
bleach
.'

Oh holy hell,
this was bad. This was really, really bad.

I put my face
in my hands. The noxious panic began to sweep over me, but I
couldn't allow it. There must be an explanation. There is no need
to panic. No need. To panic.

As a whistle
drifted up in the wind and I willed my cool composure to take over
the situation, I held back my tears and wished dearly that the
train would come and take me away again, away from the town of
Lucky Creek.

Chapter
10

I stayed upstairs for as long as I could. I sat
on my bed rubbing my hand over and over the gold circle of the
necklace. I willed it to comfort me. I willed the coal man to come
back and take me away. I checked my knife again and again in my
pocket. I had never killed anyone before in my life. God, I had
wanted to. But of course, I had never. Would I really be able to do
it now?

Of course the
window was locked. Of course there was no other way out of house
except the front door.

But when I
walked quietly downstairs, Tyler was talking to a visitor at the
door. He seemed to be an old-fashioned mail-man, with a crisp blue
suit and peaked cap. He didn't notice me behind Tyler's back; he
looked straight at Tyler and spoke in a low voice. Crisp. Clean.
Unsmiling. Tyler laughed agreeably as the man touched his cap-brim
and left the porch.

Tyler closed
the door and looked up at me standing frozen in the middle of the
stairs.

"Well, hello
there! You disappeared for a while, didn't you?" Tyler said with an
innocent smile. I didn't see anything of what I had seen this
morning. He seemed entirely back to normal. "Did you take a bath?
Or a nap?"

I didn't know
what to say so simply nodded. Tyler climbed a few steps up and
tossed me a package. I tried hard not to flinch.

"These are your
clothes. The mail-man was kind enough to deliver them here. Wasn't
that kind?"

"It was very
nice of him," I said. "Tyler, thank you very much for your
hospitality . . ."

"Oh Maggie, now
don't even mention it."

"As much as I
would like to come to your festival, I think the best idea is for
me to miss it and leave today." I said it all very quickly in a
single breath and watched as Tyler's smile faded into a frown.

"You're angry
at me, aren't you?" he asked.

"No," I replied
quietly, but Tyler shook his head.

"Yes, you are.
I was rash with you this morning. I didn't mean to be." He walked
into the kitchen and put the mail on the table. "You can have the
paper. It's right here." Tyler pulled out the costume diagram and
carried it back over to me. "It was nothing more than my thoughts
on your outfit. I wanted it to be a surprise. I overreacted."

I took the
paper from Tyler's hands. He seemed pleased that I did, but his
face faded into pain as he sunk down on the bottom step.

"I have a short
temper and frankly, it's something that has given me reservations
about certain things in my life that I would dearly love."

"Oh."

"Do you know
what I would love?"

"No."

"I would dearly
love to have another child. I feel like I could be a very good
father." Tyler looked dreamily off into space and gave a small
sigh. "Don't you think I could be a good father?"

"Sure," I
whispered. Tyler sighed again.

"I think so,
too. I'm glad you understand, Maggie." He looked at me and smiled.
"It's such a pleasure having you here. Why don't you go and try on
the clothes? We'll be leaving in a couple of hours."

"Tyler, I'm
sorry but I need to go."

"Oh please,
Maggie! You can leave right after the festival. I've washed your
old clothes and packed your supplies in a special pack. It's all
ready for you to set out." Tyler took my hand and his grip was
firm. He looked pleadingly into my eyes. I tried to pull my hand
away but his grip tightened and his face turned hard.

Before I could
process the action my hand had whipped the knife out of my pocket.
The scene froze. Tyler stared down the blade and slowly his face
softened into ambivalence and disdain.

"Where did you
get that, Maggie?" he asked in a low voice. "You said you had no
weapons. You lied."

"
You
lied," I hissed. "Who is Bettie? And Elizabeth and Lottie and all
the other girls in your tobacco box?"

"Really Maggie?
Really?!" Tyler's fist flashed out of nowhere and the side of my
head exploded into stars. As my weight fell downwards, Tyler forced
the knife out of my hand. He threw it casually behind his shoulder
and pushed me up against the wall.

"This is a
no-brainier, Maggie. The Reign Walk is over. You will go upstairs.
You will put on the dress. And you will come back downstairs when
you decide to act like a lady."

Tyler let my
hand go and pushed the package into my hands. An inch away from his
eyes, I saw that the cheer and enthusiasm I had admired before was
manic. Madness. It was practically seeping from between his eyes
and running down his face in course, chaotic streams of crazy.

I walked slowly
back upstairs and turned the corner on Tyler's patriarchal stance.
I sat on my bed and unwrapped the stiff, brown paper. Inside was a
blue gingham dress with white flowers, just like I had seen on the
paper. The stitching was neat and there was no tag. There was also
a pair of leather button-up boots.

I had a
horrible feeling of dread. Tomorrow I should be gone. Tomorrow I
should be home with my uncle and these past few days should only be
a painting on my uncle's wall. My hands flickered over the
children's photographs. All dressed in innocent white flowers.

Tyler's
footsteps strode down the hall and, after pausing outside my door,
turned back down the corridor.

***

Cirrus paced his
workshop. His hands drifted lightly over the items laid perilously
across the table – broken glass bottles, rusted nails, and glowing
bits of unfinished experiments. The relief of finding traces in the
forests of the Wilds was soon dispelled when Cirrus lost contact
with his train conductor. Cirrus was left at the station waiting
for a train that never came. Holding flowers in his hand for the
loser that never disembarked. Looking back at the train's route he
saw his mistake.

Tyler was one
of Cirrus's earliest creations and had made a name of himself with
Lucky Creek. He had also inconveniently been unreachable for the
past day and a half. Cirrus was trying to use his connections to
pertain permission to land in the Wilds, where these rogue dreams
popped up, but thus far he had had no luck. Those that chose to
live in the Wilds were brave and sometimes slightly stupid. Much of
it had never been explored. The Wilds, the changeable wasteland on
the edge of Palet, housed forgotten dreams and creations, many of
them created by Cirrus in his younger years and then cast away,
deemed unsuitable or unethical. It was hard enough finding anything
amongst the rogue community of dreams, but getting anything out of
Lucky Creek without Tyler's cooperation would be impossible.

A metallic buzz
sounded from one corner of the workshop. Cirrus bounded over to the
telephone sitting on a stack of books and pressed the receiver to
his ear.

"Hello? Yes?"
Cirrus heard an exasperated sigh, a sign that Marty's appeal to the
Council had gone badly. "Well, what did they say?!"

"I'm still
waiting here. I haven't been seen yet." Marty sighed again. "I
don't know why you even try."

"You didn't
tell anyone about Tyler, did you? Something like that would have
caused uproar."