The Girl Who Owned a City

by O. T. (Terry) Nelson

  “The King of Chicago,” she said. “What a dumb name for a leader. Why not president or premier? Is this the Dark Ages or something?”

  Neither of them answered. They both knew that it was like the Dark Ages. Kings and brutality and plagues and death were again a part of life. And Lisa knew that Logan was only her first enemy, not her last. If she recaptured Glenbard, she would be facing even bigger armies in the future. The Dark Ages wouldn’t end for a long time.

  “Where to now, Lisa?” Charlie asked.

  “Well, we could look at other towns. But I really don’t think we’ll find anything much different. We’re going to have to revise our plan tonight. We’ll just have to do it without a big army.” Lisa thought a while.

  “Driver,” she said, “turn here. Left.” Lisa led the motorcade safely back to the farm on Swift Road.

  But it wasn’t the quiet farm that they had expected to find. The high flames and smoke in the farmyard reminded Lisa of her burning house. The loud voices made her think of past battles and celebrations.

  Which was it? she wondered as the motorcade came to rest in front of the farm. Was it a party, or was it trouble?

  It was definitely a party—there were shouts and cheers of joy as she walked toward the crowd in the farmyard. They had been singing the Glenbard song and waiting for the return of the motorcade. The orange-and-yellow flag of Glenbard was flying high above the bonfire. Yes, they were celebrating.

  Someone had learned that Lisa was alive and staying at a farm on Swift Road. The rumor had spread quickly through the city, and this group must have sneaked out after Charlie.

  “Charlie!” Lisa was angry now. “How could this happen? How did they find out? Don’t you realize what could happen? This could be our big mistake. Logan might come here after us. Even if he doesn’t, now he’ll be on guard every minute against an attack. Tell me, Charlie! How could they have found out? Only you and Todd knew about it.”

  Charlie couldn’t say anything. He stood there with his mouth open, thinking. Finally he said, “Lisa, I swear I didn’t tell a soul. I swear it. I can’t imagine how they found out. I didn’t even say we were going to the Arco station.”

  She believed him. And then she remembered Jill. They must have tortured her, she thought.

  The crowd wanted Lisa to speak to them. They cheered and shouted, “We want Lisa! We want Lisa!” But her mind was on other things, very serious things. Would Logan come tonight? What had happened to Jill? Was she hurt? What should they do next? Could they still attack on the 26th? Could this bunch in the farmyard serve as an army?

  All through the night the crowd grew louder. They kept shouting, “Lisa! Lisa! We want Lisa!”

  But she didn’t speak to them. Instead, she sat alone in a room inside the farmhouse and replanned the strategy. The words of caution came back to haunt her . . . take no chances . . . look at all the possibilities . . . mistakes are costly . . . think . . . plan . . . be logical . . . take no chances . . .

  Outside, the noise continued. No, she couldn’t speak to them yet. When her plan was ready, she would talk. After all, you should only speak when you have something to say.

  Mysteriously, the crowd was growing larger by the hour. How was it possible? Where did they all come from—those 200, and then 300? What had happened at the city?

  The answer, if she’d had time to look for it, could have been seen on Swift Road, across North Avenue, down the old route to Grand Avenue, and, finally, past the lake to the castle itself. The roads were filled with a stream of pilgrims carrying their life’s belongings and food and guns to find a leader who had come back from the dead.

  But in the darkness of her room, Lisa’s courage wavered. I’m not what they think, she said to herself. I don’t know if we can do it. I just don’t know.

  The moment of weakness left her as she turned her thoughts to the problem, the one she knew she could solve. Enough doubting, she warned herself. I’ve got to make this plan right—perfect—no chances—no mistakes . . .

  All that night and the next day Lisa kept to herself in the room. Is this the 25th? she wondered. Tonight—by tonight I must have the plan ready.

  The crowd of 300 waited patiently outside in the warm spring air. They never doubted that everything would be all right and that she would figure something out.

  Todd came to work by her side. Together, by candlelight, they looked at plans and drawings. To those waiting outside, it seemed they would never come out.

  “What are they doing in there?” the children asked. “Why won’t she come out here? Why can’t we go get Logan?”

  Charlie assured them. “It’s an important plan, a very important plan. We can’t make any mistakes, and we can’t take any chances! You have to trust her. She knows what to do.”

  And when Lisa was ready—when she told them the new plan—it went into effect immediately.

  In what seemed to be almost the next moment, the crowd was at the castle. They took positions in the woods and by the walls and in the trees around Glenbard. No one made a sound while Lisa crept through the secret tunnel alone.

  Would he be in the chamber? Was her gun loaded? Did she have the key ready? Would there be guards?

  What was wrong? She emerged from the tunnel inside the fortress. But there were no guards anywhere! No children anywhere . . . what was the matter? She was more nervous than she would have been had they been everywhere.

  She went through the basement. There were no guards, no citizens. Up the stairs to the main floor—nothing, not a soul anywhere. She went down the corridor. It was deserted, lifeless. She found her way to the old chamber and turned the key.

  Logan was sitting there as though he had been waiting. “Hello, Lisa” he said, and then added, “Sit down. I want to talk to you.”

  She hadn’t expected this.

  “I can’t handle your city, Lisa. You win. Your citizens rebelled and just walked out. How could I stop them? What could I do?

  “Lisa, I’m sorry for the shooting, really sorry. I told them not to shoot. It was an accident. I didn’t want you to get hurt. And your friend, Jill, they’ll tell you that I hurt her, too. But I didn’t. We just scared her a little. She’s safe in a room downstairs. We just scared her, Lisa, that’s all. Your citizens found out where you were—I think she told them—and I threatened to hurt her if the others left, but they were too busy running away to hear me. They just walked out. What else could I do? They hated me from the start. What could I do?”

  Is he asking my opinion? she wondered. Logan seemed spent and weary. He had faced the problems of the city, and he didn’t care any longer. He was beaten.

  “Okay, let’s talk,” Lisa said, and she laid the gun on the table beside the candle.

  It was a trick. In an instant, he grabbed the gun, aimed it at her, and shouted a signal to 50 hidden guards, who soon filled the hall outside. For the second time in the history of Glenbard, the gang leader was smiling victoriously at her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  T

  he door closed. Lisa and Tom were alone in the tower chamber. She forgot about the danger for a moment and thought about the many hours she had passed in front of the candle in this dark room. She had spent entire nights planning for the future and worrying and hoping. Now she was back, but the room didn’t belong to her. Why should it? she wondered. How could I fall for such a simple trick? She didn’t deserve the room or the city.

  “Why does it have to be this way, Tom?” she said, not knowing where the conversation would lead. “Why do we have to fight? You know I don’t want to fight. Have I ever attacked you before? This time I’m only defending what’s mine!

  “What is it about you that makes you want to fight and steal? Are you afraid that you can’t earn things for yourself? Why do you need to steal what others have worked for?”

  Tom listened, but he couldn’t reply. She had found his weakness and that was painful.

  Lisa went on. “What good is your life, Tom? Did yo
u ever wonder about that? What fun is there in your kind of dirty business? What good is there in making people afraid of you? Why do you need slaves or soldiers who are afraid of you? You depend on fear!

  “You start with your soldiers’ fear of death and starvation, and then you add to that your own fear of failure. I think you fear building a better life with your own brains.

  “You know, Tom, that’s what it is. You don’t have the guts to depend on your own resources. No! You’d rather be tough and take what someone else has worked hard for.

  “Do you have any idea what this city cost me, Tom? I paid for this place with hard work. I didn’t steal anything that belonged to anyone else. I just used my head.

  “And then you . . . you came along with your army and your guns and decided that my work was ripe for the harvest.”

  Tom had no answer. He put the gun down on the table and slumped into his chair. He couldn’t think of a reply or a boast or a threat. He was silent.

  Lisa watched the gun but didn’t pick it up. She had a much better weapon now—his fear. She had Tom Logan against the wall. He had no more defenses. She would drive home the final blow.

  “You’re afraid of life and your ability to earn your way through it. I feel sorry for you. You don’t know what real fun is.” She wanted to give him the Great King’s happiness advice. But Logan wasn’t ready for it. She picked up the gun and pointed it at him, her finger on the trigger. Then she made a decision. She put the weapon back down.

  “You’re free, Tom,” she said. “Go away, and take your army with you.”

  He said nothing and moved to the door. She added, “I’d like to be able to like you, Tom.”

  Within minutes, the Chidester, Elm, and Lenox army was walking away from Glenbard. Lisa closed the chamber door. Her gun was sitting on the table near her old familiar candle.

  “Alone!” she said out loud. It felt good to be back. She wandered around the room, deep in thought, while her city filled with happy citizens. The hall was crowded, and they were waiting to see her.

  There was a knock at the chamber door. It was Todd. “Well, we’re back, aren’t we, Todd?” She smiled at him.

  “They want you to speak to them, Lisa.”

  “What? About what? There are hundreds of them out there. Let me rest a minute. You should go to sleep, Todd, over there, on the couch. I’ll tell you a story tomorrow. Will that be all right?

  “You must be tired,” she said. “You haven’t slept in days, have you? I’m tired too. Maybe one day soon we can take a vacation somehow, somewhere.”

  Lisa gazed at her brave little brother. He had already fallen asleep.

  After a time, the noise from the hall distracted her. What do they want? she wondered. Why do they waste their time shouting for me? Why don’t they spend the effort on something else?

  She sat back down and lit the candle. It was her “thoughtful” candle. Its flame had inspired the plans that had made her city.

  The shouts from the hall became insistent. “We want Lisa! We want Lisa!” It sounded as though all the citizens were there, waiting and chanting.

  She wanted to please them. But she didn’t know what to say. Should she tell them about the Great King, or the “King of Chicago”? Should she mention the army of 5,000 that might attack their city?

  She had to speak to them. It was her job. She paused by the door, not wanting to make her appearance and not wanting to spoil her hard-earned peace.

  Lisa stood for a long time with her hand on the door latch. I don’t know how, she thought, but I’ll figure out a way to show them what I know. We have to make plans. We have to prepare.

  The girl who owned the city walked through the door into the waiting crowd of happy children.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  O. T. Nelson’s initial impetus for writing a novel was to help pay for an expansion of his house-painting business, but his work has gone on to become much more than that to generations of readers. The Girl Who Owned a City was first published in 1975 and has been popular ever since. O. T. Nelson explains that he wanted children “to realize that they are important and that they have the ability to think and make a difference.” His own life is reflected in the story. He wrote the book while living in the Chicago suburb of Glen Ellyn, Illinois—the setting of the story—and the novel’s protagonists, Lisa and Todd Nelson, share the names of his own children. O. T. Nelson lives in Minnesota with his wife.