Will Wilder #2

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Will Wilder #2 Page 19

by Raymond Arroyo


  Instantly understanding that the seventh plague was upon them, Lucille pulled the chains to their full length. She pressed her back against the cinder-block wall behind her.

  The structure rumbled and a sizzling sound overhead made it clear that the roof had caught fire.

  The mayor, whose leg and arm were bloodied, crawled across the floor to an unconscious Sab. “Get up, Pothinus.” She struck his face. “We’ve got to get out of here.” On his green-stained jacket, she spotted the fat earwig from the tonic bottle. The thing waddled north onto Sab’s lapel, bound for his head. The mayor removed her shoe and clumsily whacked the earwig with it. Her aim was off, so she kept trying.

  A moaning squeal of twisting metal echoed from the ceiling. Lucille watched in horror as flaming fissures cracked through the plaster surface.

  “Stay still, you bugger,” the mayor screamed, smashing her heel into Sab’s collar. Green goo and bits of the dead earwig oozed down the front of his jacket. The blow startled Sab, who jerked upward just in time to see the ceiling cave in.

  A clanging cascade of metal, bricks, and fire pounded onto the floor of the cell. To avoid the falling debris, Sab and the mayor backed into the hall. They peered through the dust and flames. “Lucille? Did you make it, Lucille?” the mayor yelled.

  Only the crackle of burning wood and tumbling bricks replied.

  “We’ve got to go. Come on, Pothinus,” the mayor screamed, a hand over her bleeding arm. She hobbled down the hall.

  Pothinus Sab did not immediately follow her. He lingered for a moment to check for any sign of Lucille Wilder. “Are you there, Miss Wilder?” he asked in a singsong voice. On the other side of the flaming rubble, a red flash ignited. It only lasted a moment. Probably the main electrical lines snapping, Sab thought.

  He shouted into the inferno, the burning hail raining down through the open ceiling. “On the off chance that you survive, there’ll be no running away. We wouldn’t want that, would we?” He slammed the cell door shut and took the keys, sealing Lucille inside. “You and your Brethren can do NOTHING to stop the rising of Amon. Can you hear me, Lucille Wilder? The people will welcome the Sinestri,” he taunted her through the bars. “They are already ours.”

  Unable to find Will in Bethel Hall, Tobias Shen searched Peniel’s training wing. “Mr. Wilder? Mr. Wilder?” Shen cried, walking briskly down the columned hall. Minor quakes rattled the tower as he neared the courtyard door. Outside, clumps of fire dropped into the garden. Shen worried that Will had used the courtyard as a shortcut and might have been struck down by the hail. Slightly panicked, the old man doubled his pace and ran smack into Will, who exited the column’s secret chamber carrying the Malleus Diabolus.

  “Mr. Wilder. Thank the Lord you are in one piece,” Shen said, uncharacteristically embracing him.

  “We need to talk, Mr. Shen,” Will said, checking over his shoulder. “Alone.” He didn’t wait for a response but sped up the staircase to the north tower. Shen noted the open column in the hallway with a troubled frown but didn’t stay to investigate. Instead he charged after Will.

  Despite the tremors, none of Peniel’s buildings suffered major damage. Climbing the tower, Will surveyed the rooftops of Peniel through the small windows in the stone and realized the hail was deliberately avoiding Peniel’s structures. Continuing to the top of the staircase, he opened the door to a spacious communal room, which overlooked all of Perilous Falls. Tobias Shen came heaving through the doorway moments later.

  “Why do you run so quickly? What is wrong with you, Mr. Wilder?” Shen threw himself into a chair. He raised his faint eyebrows and grunted when he saw the book in Will’s hands. “Explain!”

  Will closed the door before responding. He told Shen about the secret passageway in the column and how Valens had led him to the Malleus Diabolus. “Once it opened, Mr. Valens wanted to see the book and started asking all these strange questions about Aaron’s staff. He wanted to know if I knew where it was.”

  “What did you tell him?” Shen looked past Will, through the expansive windows at the town below.

  “I don’t know where Aaron’s staff is. What do you think I told him? But I’m sure he was searching that secret room for it.” The sight of fire raining down on Perilous Falls pulled Will to the window and broke his concentration. “Is the city going to burn? I’d better get home—” He started for the door.

  “No need, Mr. Wilder,” Shen said. With two fingers, he indicated a leather chair. “Bartimaeus and I pretreated most of the houses and buildings in town with holy water. It should shield them from this demonic attack. The town seems to be holding up well.” Shen nodded contentedly, observing the hail burning trees and striking roadways but missing most of the houses and businesses.

  “Mr. Shen, the prophecy and this book said I had to get two staffs. Bobbit may have Moses’s staff, but what about Aaron’s?” Will pushed his pith helmet back and stuck his chin out, demanding an answer.

  “Our power resides in what is small, Mr. Wilder…in obedience,” Shen said, watching Will’s reaction closely.

  “I have been obedient. I have done everything you all asked. But there is a demon out there trying to kill me and I need to know where Aaron’s staff is. Do you know? Where is it?”

  Oblivious to his tantrum, Shen dispassionately changed the subject. “Have you been attending to your tree at the St. Thomas churchyard, Mr. Wilder?”

  “Yes, yes. I have watered it every day. Obedient Will has watered that dumb tree every day since you first told me to—”

  “Good. Good. Good. Obedience is the shortest path to perfection. Where there is no obedience, there is no virtue. Where there is no virtue, there is no good. The devil fears the obedient, Will.” He smiled, igniting the starburst of wrinkles around his eyes. “I am very, very pleased.”

  Will rolled his eyes in exasperation, wanting to press him about the location of the staff. But a suddenly agitated Mr. Shen was on his feet, walking to the window. Smoke plumed from a building behind city hall.

  “The jail,” he said, fear in his voice. “Bartimaeus and I skipped a few of the government buildings: the sheriff’s office and the jail. It was too risky.” He craned his neck to see over the trees of the park. “We didn’t protect the jail. I hope Lucille is safe.”

  Will checked his ring. The blood roiled inside the ampule. “The burning hail looks like it’s stopping. We should go check on her now.”

  “Yes. Yes. I’ll take you home. Then I will visit Lucille myself.” Shen maneuvered past Will and pushed open the door.

  “Mr. Shen, wait up,” Will said. “This Malleus book had a note from my great-grandfather about a plot to raise Amon using the mummy. The one downstairs. Kinda freaky, huh?”

  “We must share all of this with the abbot,” Shen said, descending the stairs. “In the meantime, I will tell the Brethren to keep careful watch of Valens.”

  Unbeknownst to Shen and Will, Valens had been keeping careful watch of them. Had they returned to the top of the stairs and checked behind the door of the communal room, they would have found Valens standing exactly where he had been for several minutes. It was the perfect spot to overhear their conversation and to plan his next move.

  Before Will went to bed Wednesday night, Mr. Shen called to tell the family that Lucille Wilder’s jail cell had burned in the fiery storm. By the time Mr. Shen arrived, the rubble still smoldered, though Lucille was nowhere to be found. Dan Wilder, in his robe, sped to the jail to get answers from the firefighters. “No one’s seen her,” he was told. “She might be buried in the wreckage. We don’t know for sure.”

  Will had just changed into his pajamas when his mother knocked at his bedroom door.

  “Can I come in?” she asked.

  He opened the door and affected a brave face but said nothing. Deb, in her nightgown, walked over and sat on the edge of his bed while Will avoided facing her, rearranging figurines from Peniel on his bookshelf.

  “Everything has a beginning and an e
nd, Will. Even our time with those we love.” She spoke gently and waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she continued. “Your aunt Lucille loved you very much. More than anything, she wanted you to use your gifts and to make sure you were safe.”

  “I know,” Will said without turning around.

  “If you want to continue your training, I’ll support you. I know Lucille was very adamant about the prophecy and your role in it.”

  “Uh-huh.” His voice cracked and he said nothing else.

  “She felt the same way about your sister and brother. She started training Leo, too, you know. He’s scared and coming to terms with his gift. He was in his room today practicing breathing and…I don’t know what he was doing, but he needs your support, Will.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Deb rose and placed her hands on Will’s shoulders. “You’re not the only one who feels the world is closing in on him. And you’re not alone.”

  Will spun around, his eyes brimming with panic. “Do you think she’s really gone, Mom?”

  “I wish we could know for sure, but I can tell you one thing: No matter what danger she faced, your aunt Lucille would have fought to the bitter end. We’ve got to do the same.” She kissed him on the head. “Go to sleep. We’ll probably know more tomorrow.” She left, noiselessly closing the door behind her.

  Will hit the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. Life without Aunt Lucille was unimaginable to him. Lying on his bed trying to sleep, he couldn’t envision facing Amon or whatever lay ahead without Aunt Lucille’s guidance…her protection…her love. He angrily punched at the mattress.

  Aunt Lucille’s gone and I’ll be next. Then everybody…

  To mask his sudden sobs, he buried his face in his pillow, soaking it with tears. The emotional toil and the physical trials of the day eventually dragged him to sleep.

  It was nearly half past eight in the morning when he was awakened by a droning noise outside his window. To Will’s ear it sounded like a thousand tiny maracas being constantly shaken in the yard.

  Did all the neighbors start up their Weedwhackers at the same time? What the heck?

  His head and an arm hung off the edge of the bed, his legs knotted in the sheets. Will kicked free of the bedclothes and lifted his blinds. “Those aren’t Weedwhackers,” he said. “They’re weed EATERS!”

  Thousands of winged lime-green grasshoppers filled the air. They feasted on the trees, which were broken and burned by the hailstorm in the backyard. The front lawns and gardens were spared—at least those Will could see. Mr. Shen and Bartimaeus must have hit the lawns and the houses with their water treatment.

  He quickly dressed and ran downstairs.

  “Locusts have descended upon Perilous Falls with inexplicable fury,” the reporter on TV blared into the Wilder kitchen. “It is nothing short of biblical. Though I have to say, the swarm has thinned from a few hours ago….”

  “At least people won’t have to cut their grass for a few years,” Will said, tucking his shirt in. Getting no reaction from his father, he turned serious. “Dad, do we know anything else about Aunt Lucille?”

  Dan Wilder took a swig of coffee and turned from the TV. “Nothing yet. I’m going back to the jail now if I can get through….Just look at this…” His palm trembled as he raised it to the television. “Where are these things coming from?”

  Will was too upset to debate with his father. “You know where they’re coming from, Dad. A demon has the staff. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m not the first Wilder they’ve attacked.” He tied his red sneakers, watching his father closely.

  Dan said nothing, sipping from his coffee mug. Then looking up, he asked, “Where are you going? You can’t go out into this…this swarm.”

  “It’s not as bad as the gnats or the frogs. At least these things only eat leaves.” Will grabbed a raincoat from the hall closet. “I have to meet the guys at Bub’s. Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s upstairs getting ready for a shoot. You know she loves supernat—events like…this.” Dan abruptly wrapped his son in a bear hug, speaking urgently. “Don’t do anything dangerous, Will. Keep your distance from the Brethren. Their old stories can only hurt you, son. Look at your aunt Lucille.” He held Will close, tears forming in his eyes. “If we rationally focus on real things…on the here and now—the present—maybe we can survive. But when we dwell on…other things…old fables…we can bring them into our lives. I don’t want that for you—for any of us. I only want to keep you safe. Do you understand?” Dan held Will by the shoulders and studied his face with worried eyes.

  Will broke away from his father, placing the pith helmet on his head. “This is the here and now, Dad.” He opened the front door, pointing to the swarms of locusts swirling on the street. “This is the present that I have to deal with. If I don’t, there may be nothing left for you to keep safe.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s the truth,” Will said, stepping outside. “These things aren’t natural, Dad, and they’re not old fables. Why won’t you admit it?”

  His father looked pained, wanting to say something more. But he stopped himself. Finally, over the buzz of the insects clouding the street, Dan yelled, “Be careful, son.”

  “Sure thing.” Will waved, skipping into the locust haze, his raincoat flapping behind him. For a split second Dan almost ran after Will. Instead, he white-knuckled the door frame, reminding himself of all the possible explanations for the locust storm. Conflicted and miserable, he watched his son disappear from sight.

  There were fewer bugs in the sky than when he awoke. Like the frogs and the gnats before them, the flying grasshoppers never approached Will. It was as if he were wearing some sort of insect repellent.

  Catching sight of a house on the corner of Falls Road, he slowed his run. The place looked like it had been target practice for a couple of bomb squadrons. The smoking roof had caved in and locusts coated every inch of the home. The swarm greedily munched the grass, trees, and bushes out front. Will did a double take because all the houses surrounding it were pristine—not a locust on them.

  The bedraggled owner, a large woman covered in soot, defended her front doorway with a broom. The locusts were clearly winning. Will walked up the path to the house. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  “Sure! It’s a laugh a minute around here.” She never stopped swinging at the incoming locusts. “The city came through a few days ago spraying the houses and ol’ big mouth here told them she didn’t want any poison in her yard. ‘Let nature have its way,’ I thought. That worked out great.” She jumped a little and reached into her blouse, pulling two locusts out by their wings. Snarling, she tossed them into the air.

  “Let me see if I can help,” Will said, removing a holy water vial from his backpack. He scattered the contents near the front door and the locusts took flight, clearing the entryway.

  “Hey, hit me with some of that too,” the slack-jawed woman demanded.

  Will sprinkled her with the water. She dropped her broom to the ground. “Thanks a lot, kid,” she said, amazed by the suddenly bug-free zone.

  He gave her a wave and wondered how the dilapidated house was still standing. Backing away, he hoped that it wouldn’t collapse until he cleared out.

  “Kid, if you see an Asian man in a city truck, tell him to swing by. He offered me a treatment a couple of days ago. I think it’s time,” the woman bellowed. “Tell him it’s Alveda Bruckburger’s house. He’ll probably remember me.”

  Will smiled in a “this is weird, so I’m leaving” kind of way and ran up Main Street. Before reaching Bub’s, he took a short detour to the jail, which was only steps from city hall. Crackling sounds, like toothpicks snapping, came from the locusts gnawing shrubbery on either side of Will, but the buildings seemed fine. He was not prepared for what he found at the sheriff’s office.

  Police tape sealed the collapsed, smoking jail. Every wall had fallen in. Even so, Will wanted a closer look. He lifted
the police tape and started to duck under it.

  A cop jumped out of his squad car, flicking locusts away from his face. “You can’t go near the jail, young man,” he announced.

  “My aunt Lucille was in there last night, Officer. Why isn’t somebody looking for her?”

  “You’ve got to ask?” The cop held his arm out, covered in locusts. “These things are coming out of our ears. Wildfires are burning in almost every public area. We did a pass through the jail and there’s nobody in there—alive or otherwise.” He shooed away the bothersome bugs and jogged back to his police car.

  Will mumbled a “thanks” and unhappily stomped to Bub’s. Oddly, the usual collection of cats, dogs, and even a few birds congregated along the front of the sweet shop, transfixed by the locusts. The full bowls of milk and dog treats seemed to keep the pets in place. The flies that usually hung about the alley couldn’t be seen through the locust blur. As if frightened, the animals yowled, chirped, and purred at Will’s approach. Or maybe they were reacting to Simon, who strolled up wearing a full beekeeper outfit.

  “Don’t stare at me!” Simon said defensively to Will. “You’re wearing a raincoat and there’s not a cloud in the sky. At least I’m dressed appropriately for interacting with winged threats.” He shook a finger at the bellowing animals outside. “You all can shut it too,” Simon brayed, opening the door to Bub’s Treats and Sweets.

  Andrew and Cami were already seated at one of the shiny chrome tables inside. They were the only patrons. While Simon peeled off his beekeeper apparel, Cami tried to keep from laughing in his face. “I already ordered you a Puffer-Fluff, Will,” she said, tightly smirking. “You too, Simon.”

  “We staked Bobbit out most of yesterday,” Andrew said, buttering a muffin. “Nothin’ doin’ there, Will-man. He’s sick. But he never ate a goose.”

  Simon took his seat and jumped into the conversation. “Here’s the full report of his activities.” He smacked a notebook, scribbled with entries, onto the table. “Mr. Bobbit delivered a couple of cages to the Karnak Center. But they were covered, so he could have been delivering monkeys for all we know—we’re assuming they were geese. He then stumbled home, grabbing his stomach twice. Once he got there, he watched TV and never left. We saw everything.”

 

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