“Sure will,” Charlie replied, joining her in the bow. He was actually feeling good about the day.
The ship was sound, and once Franklin and Ignacio raised the sail, it cut across the water at a silent speed that surprised Charlie. They did not say much as they headed out over the water, distracted as they were by thoughts of what might be waiting for them on the other side. There were no signs of life out there other than the long, tubular body of a scaled serpent that snaked on the waves alongside them, swimming with the ship but never showing its head. It followed them for the better part of an hour, and then came so close to the ship that Abigail reached out and touched it.
They sailed on past sunset, and when the stars appeared in the night sky, Franklin took out his sextant and charted their progress on his rolls of maps. Charlie and Abigail slept under the stars in the bow with Franklin and Ignacio alternating time on the rudder.
In the morning, they spied land on the horizon, and by late afternoon they were sailing along a coast with thick forests that towered over narrow gravel beaches. The shore opened to a small cove, where Franklin dropped the sail, letting the boat drift in silence toward the pebbled shore.
Before Charlie even heard the crunch of the bow on the beach, Franklin had let go of the rudder and leapt overboard into the waist-deep water. He pulled the boat as far as it would go, securing it to the exposed roots of a towering redwood tree. Charlie jumped off into the clear, cold water and helped Abigail down from the bow. He tried to carry her the few paces to the shore, but she slid from his arms.
“Thank you, Charlie. I can make it all right,” she said, running her fingers across the surface. “These waters are wonderful. They feel so alive.”
As she waded to the shore, Charlie thought she looked peaceful here, almost as if she could continue walking into the deep wood to become part of the wilderness that lined the beach before them.
“Hey, how about a hand?” Ignacio asked, breaking Charlie’s gaze. He splashed over to take the heavy cask of water that the Ranger was holding out from the bow.
“You be careful with yourself, now. I’m told these trees hold many secrets,” he whispered to him.
Charlie helped Ignacio and Franklin unload the rest of the boat. When they were done, the Ranger headed down the beach in one direction and Franklin in the other, Charlie presumed, to scout the island for what the night could possibly have in store. Abigail returned from the trees with an armload of firewood, so Charlie decided to do the same. He wandered toward where he had last seen Franklin, picking up odd bits of driftwood and listening as the island settled in for the night.
Walking deeper into the woods, he soon found that the thick forest floor beneath the trees was just as tiresome as the sands of the beach behind him. He heard movement ahead and walked forward until he found himself at the edge of a large clearing. Franklin was there, kneeling in a circle of uneven trees, staring up at the sky as it turned with the setting sun from gold and red to purple, blue, and black. Charlie crept closer but stopped when he heard tree branches cracking at the other side of the glade. The crashing sounds were made by a large bear.
The bear looked like other bears that Charlie had seen in the mountains above Old Joe’s orchard, except that its coat was a yellow-ivory color and there were snow-white patches around its eyes and haunches. The bear cautiously entered the clearing, smelling the air and pawing roughly at the ground. Franklin stood up to face the bear, which stood in kind, letting out a low growl that turned to a roar. Franklin did the same, but with a ferociousness that frightened Charlie, just as it had in the past. Then the Monster spread his arms, leaned his head back, and howled. The birds and other creatures of the trees went silent. The bear growled again, but then Franklin did something that surprised Charlie. With his arms still out, he knelt down to the ground once more and, unlike their first meeting with the queen of the Mumiya, he lowered his head and bowed low.
A deep, rumbling growl came from somewhere within the bear as it dropped down, and with all four paws on the ground, he lumbered a few steps closer to Franklin. Franklin remained where he was until the bear reached him. Then they both turned to look directly at Charlie.
Charlie stumbled back, tripped over a log, and dropped the armload of firewood that he had collected. Franklin had raised his head and now seemed to be in some kind of conversation with the bear. Charlie hurried back to the beach, wondering what he had just seen.
When he returned, Ignacio and Abigail were throwing chunks of driftwood onto a fire that roared in a pit they had dug in the pebbles and sand.
“Was that all the wood you could muster?” Abigail asked flatly when Charlie entered the ring of firelight empty-handed.
“I guess we know who’ll be doing the dishes,” Ignacio added, tossing a good-sized log onto the blaze.
A short while later, Franklin returned from the woods carrying the quartered shank of a moose over his shoulder. “A gift,” he said. “He’s allowed us to stay.” As they roasted the meat over the fire, Charlie asked the Monster about the bear and its odd coloring.
“They’re known as Kermode,” Franklin explained, “or the Spirit Bear.”
“The Kermode?”
“Their kind is from over the mountains. I suppose there used to be others here, but they must have passed or moved on because this one is on its own now.”
Franklin turned the moose shank on the spit, and Charlie wondered if the Monster felt a sort of kinship with the bear. After all, they were both alone in this valley.
When they were done eating, they gathered back around the fire and laid out their bedrolls. Abigail and Charlie settled in, but Franklin and Ignacio sat on stumps nearby and talked.
Charlie took out his photograph with Billy, propped it up against his pack, then drifted in and out of sleep, a whirlwind of images racing through his head. The rainy Halloween night in the graveyard and his first visit with the Prime Minister, his ride with Mrs. Winthrope, and meeting Franklin in the stables back at his treasured Charnel House. Though he shuddered at the thought of their first encounter with Lester Mortlock and his wayward band of ogres, he recalled that this was when they were introduced to Dwight York. He thought the same of the cold night in the rain when the trolls attacked, but found comfort thinking of their meeting the Ranger Ignacio Santos, and then was proud that he, Charlie, had freed Abigail Rose from the dock on the river. His thoughts turned back to Billy, his parents, and Old Joe. He hoped they were well and couldn’t wait to tell them where he’d been and all about the many wonders that he had seen. When Charlie did dream that night, his dreams were filled with birds, dark birds with white markings. There were huge flocks of them, swirling in black clouds, screeching just above his head.
— chapter 38 —
Time to Go
SOMETIME NEAR DAWN, Charlie woke. The fire had burned to coals. Franklin and Abigail were gone, but Ignacio still sat on a stump across from him, although he was now beside the Prime Minister.
When Charlie looked up, the Prime Minister turned to him and said, “It is almost time.” There was a lone magpie perched on his shoulder, and Charlie could see the reflection of the dying embers in its eyes.
“Time?” Charlie asked, happy to see that the Prime Minister had rejoined them, but wary of the magpie.
“Time to go,” he replied, “into the woods.” Then he whispered something to the magpie. The bird took to the air and flew out over the water.
Charlie watched the bird grow smaller in the distance and spotted Franklin standing at the water’s edge with Abigail. They were looking at the last of the moonlight that bounced off the gentle waves that lapped the shore, the Monster’s silhouette dwarfing the small girl.
“We must hurry. The closer to morning, the more agitated the strigoii will become.”
“What’s a strigoii?” Charlie asked, reaching for his rucksack and the encyclopedia.
“Leave that,” the Prime Minister instructed, turning away from the fire. “As you will soon see, the time for that book has passed.”
Ignacio remained seated as Charlie stood and collected himself; he was poking the fire with a long stick.
“Aren’t you coming?” Charlie asked, shoving his picture with Billy back in his pocket.
“Me? No, I have no business there,” he said. “Not at this time. Good luck, though, Charlie. I sure hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Ignacio dropped his eyes back toward the fire, and Charlie went to join Franklin, Abigail, and the Prime Minister at the edge of the woods. To Charlie’s surprise, the bear appeared as they left the beach and they followed his hulking figure deep into the forest. They walked for what seemed like hours, though there was little sign of the approaching dawn through the trees that towered overhead. They were quiet as they walked on, going farther and farther into the eerie thickness of these peculiar woods, and they continued until they came to a clearing littered with giant slabs of rock, which appeared to have fallen or were somehow thrown about. The stone relics were overgrown with tangled vines and mosses; in certain places, you could only see their outline beneath the matted vegetation.
“We are almost there,” the Prime Minister announced, breaking the uneasy silence. “This is the threshold. Stay close to me. There is danger here at the edge. The strigoii will be there trying to intercept those who are going the wrong way.”
“Strigoii?” Charlie whispered, realizing that his hands were trembling. “I don’t get it. What’s a strigoii?”
“They are the true dead,” the Prime Minister explained. “They are my dead. My fate as this is what awaits me.”
“They’re dead? Dead vampires?” Charlie asked.
“Yes,” Franklin said. “They are not to be trifled with.”
Within moments, the strigoii appeared on the edges of the clearing, just as the Prime Minister had warned. They were small, almost naked creatures. The little hair they had stood up in red sprouts on the very tops of their heads or was clustered in tufts on the ridges of their long, tattered ears. Their ribs stuck out above their swollen bellies and they hung from the immense trees by long claws that glistened in the darkness. The strigoii watched them with a curious look in their eyes; they gnashed their fangs, which made a clicking sound that sent a shiver up Charlie’s spine and he wondered if Billy had encountered these creatures here too.
“Dorim să trecem,” the Prime Minister declared.
Charlie and Abigail looked at Franklin.
“He tells them we wish to pass,” Franklin explained.
“Noi nu dorim să treceţi,” the creatures hissed in response.
“But they do not wish us to pass,” Franklin continued.
“Nu-ţi cer permisiunea. Stiti cine sînt. Declar că voi trece,” the Prime Minister said.
“He is telling them that he does not need their permission and that we will pass,” Franklin continued.
“Îţi onorum viata lungă a dumneavoastră. Dacă trebuie să treceţi, treceţi. Dar să nu staţi mult. Cât mai mult staţi, cât mai mult rămâneţi,” the strigoii replied.
“They say that they honor his long life and that if he must pass, pass. But they warn us to not stay long. The longer you stay here . . . the longer you must stay here . . . or something to that effect. Hard to tell with this dialect,” Franklin said, visibly frustrated with the task of translating.
“A bit rusty perhaps, but close enough,” the Prime Minister said, turning his back to the creatures. “Now, let us continue before they change their minds.”
Franklin took a moment to thank the bear, bowing low again before him in gratitude. The bear nodded in return and watched as they followed the Prime Minister deeper into the woods. The strigoii moved in behind them when they passed, and Charlie couldn’t help but feel sad for the creatures. It was the wistful, longing look in their eyes.
They walked for some time more, and Charlie noticed that faint signs of dawn were finally beginning to make their way through the upper canopy of the trees. As the early-morning mist cleared, the ancient forest was soon bathed in a glorious light.
“These trees will protect me to a certain extent, but I cannot stay long,” the Prime Minister said, looking up to the inevitable sunrise. “Quite a sight to see, though . . . quite a sight.”
The Prime Minister continued, and the farther they walked, Charlie began to feel a warmth wash over him like he had never felt before. His head was clear and he was somehow lighter.
“We are almost there,” the Prime Minister said, quickly ducking his head to avoid a heavy branch. Franklin, distracted by the change in the air, walked straight into it.
“I don’t understand,” Charlie mumbled, slipping on the moss of a wet log. He was disoriented and stammered to himself, suddenly uncertain of his words. “I-I-I don’t . . .”
Charlie took a deep breath, and then steadied himself by leaning against the trunk of a towering tree. He looked up at the branches above and instantly felt connected to this place; he did not know how, but he could see and smell and was somehow touching everything that was around him. With his hand resting on the great tree’s thick bark, he understood its workings and could actually feel its long roots as though they were his own fingers digging deep into the rich soil of the layered forest floor. There were flowers among the trees with butterflies fluttering from their petals, and Charlie could feel what they felt as their tiny, humming bodies were energized by the rich plants’ nectar.
“This way,” the Prime Minister called back, and Charlie stumbled forward, following his voice, which now sounded distant.
With one look, Charlie could tell that Franklin was affected by this place as well. He walked ahead with his eyes turned to the sky and his arms outstretched so that he could touch every fern, tree trunk, and branch that he passed too.
“It is unbelievable,” Franklin said. “All my studies, my books and travels, yet I have understood more in the last few steps . . .”
“You are feeling them. The spirits,” the Prime Minister explained. “Understanding all that they ever knew.”
“And you?” Franklin asked.
“I do not share your experience. And what of our Miss Rose . . . ,” he said, slowly turning to her.
“It is beautiful here.” Abigail giggled. “And peaceful, if that’s what you mean . . .”
“Yes, it is indeed that.” The Prime Minister smiled, satisfied with her answer. “And, I might add, I think we have brought you to the right place.”
Dust particles danced on the rays of sunshine, sparkling like flecks of gold as they fell all around.
“Do you see them, Charlie?” the Prime Minister asked.
“See them?”
Abigail turned in the light and laughed. “I see them. They’re everywhere!”
The floating dust seemed to thicken.
“See who? Where?” Franklin said, turning about and looking in all directions, his actions almost mimicking Abigail’s, though far less graceful.
“Ghosts . . . spirits . . . souls. Whatever you call them.” The Prime Minister smiled again. He walked with his hands slightly raised, and there was an unfamiliar lightness about him. “They’re always around us, leaving traces of what they once were and all they had hoped to be . . .”
The Prime Minister stopped and the dust seemed to cluster next to him, where Charlie could start to make out a human shape taking form.
“Not just beneath these trees, but everywhere, all the time. They are just easier to see here, where so many have gathered.”
A mist emerged from the form almost like a hand and touched Charlie lightly on the shoulder. It was cold at first, like the Prime Minister or Abigail Rose, but then a warm, peaceful glow washed over him. It was so sudden that he lost his balance and stumbled sideways again before catching himse
lf. When Charlie looked up, he could see the spirits, all of them, and he could feel them. Pushing his way through the crowds, the mist of their cold, clammy skin rubbed against him. He was cold and shivered as some forms passed, while others filled him with the same warmth that he had experienced with his hand on the tree. Some smiled peacefully, others wore maniacal grins, but most just carried a solemn look and went about their day.
“It is special here, so many,” the Prime Minister continued. “As I said, this is a gathering place.”
“What are they doing here?”
“Waiting, Charlie. Waiting to hear if their lives were worth living. Some do not stay for long. Others will remain here for years. You see, some lives are not appreciated until well after they are gone. Still others linger because they are not missed, or they are forgotten. Lives unlived, perhaps, but it is not for us to judge.”
Even from his studies with the encyclopedia, Charlie had no idea that ghosts were everywhere, all the time. He couldn’t shake the old notions he had of ghosts, that they looked like bedsheets and could appear or disappear, maybe walk through a wall. But now that he could see the souls of the dead here in Monsterland, he realized he could not have been more wrong. These ghosts, these spirits, were all over and moving about constantly. Turning, bumping, bouncing into one another, going about their business just like the rest of us, although much like the Mumiya, it wasn’t entirely clear what their business was; it was almost like they were on a crowded train, but this mass of dead went on through the trees for miles, as far as Charlie could see. There were just so many. It was endless.
“It’s fantastic,” Abigail gasped. It was still hard to tell, but even she seemed impressed.
There was a sudden flash of light, and Charlie saw one of the spirits fade away into the mist.
“See,” the Prime Minister pointed out. “That one has just moved on.”
Monsterland Page 24
