by Scott Mebus
Terrified, Rory ran for it, followed by Alexa and Simon, the former carrying Fritz in her hand. They raced through the stone halls of the convent and out the front door into the fog, swerving around the mist-shrouded trees as they made their way toward the dock. Finally, they reached the boat, which had been joined by a second vessel tied up right beside it. Rory ran up to the second boat and ripped the sail right off the mast with strength born of terror. Anything to make sure Bill could not follow.
They piled into their boat and pushed off the dock as Alexa quickly hoisted the sail. The wind picked up and they had begun to move away from the shore when a scream of pure fury shook them all to the bone.
Bill burst out of the trees to race down the dock, a hulking mess of a man barreling toward them with unstoppable force. He bled from numerous wounds, but he did not slow. Reaching the end of the dock, he launched through the air at the boat, grabbing at the mast. He just missed, but he managed to wrap his hand around one of the lines as he flew by, and the weight of his falling body brought the boat dangerously close to capsizing as he splashed into the ocean.
“He’s going to kill us all!” Simon cried, pulling out a knife to hack at the rope.
“No, Simon!” Alexa cried, trying to stop him, but Simon’s fear could not be contained. He severed line after line, sending the entire sail fluttering into the sea. Letting go of his rope, Bill tried to swim toward the boat, but it became obvious that he did not know how. His fury turned to fear as the waves began to crash over him, pushing him under. He struggled to stay afloat, cursing at Rory, safe in the boat, but the cause was a losing one, and finally, Bill the Butcher sank beneath the waves.
They all fell back against the side of the boat, exhausted. Glancing back, Rory noticed that the current had pulled the boat far from Swinburne Island, dragging them deeper into the mist. Alexa stared daggers at Simon.
“All you had to do was cut the one line he was tangled up in,” she said angrily. “Why did you have to cut them all?”
“I didn’t want him to get me—I mean, us,” Simon muttered, his face still ashen.
“You are such a coward!” she shouted back. Simon didn’t answer, sitting miserably at the bottom of the boat. Fritz put up a calming hand.
“Let’s simmer down,” he said. “We need to figure out what to do now.”
“Well, we’ve got no sail and we’ve got no oars and the current is taking us away from land,” Alexa said, counting their troubles off on her hand. “If we try to swim, we’ll most likely be dragged to the bottom of the ocean. So in reality we’ve got one option: float.”
And float they did, out into the mist.
Hours seemed to pass as they drifted through the thick fog. Finally, Rory lost his temper.
“CRAP!” he shouted into the void. Alexa snorted.
“Feel better?” she asked.
“AHOY THERE!” a voice called out from the mist. Rory exchanged shocked looks with his fellow castaways.
“HELLO!” he shouted back. The others joined him in shouting, until a ship came gliding out of the fog. ADVENTURE GALLEY it read on the bow. A familiar face leaned out over the rail; it was Captain Kidd himself. His eyes twinkled as he called down to them.
“Need a hand?”
17
NORTHWARD BOUND
Night had fallen over the Munsee village. Bridget sat cross-legged at the mouth of Chogan’s cave, slowly petting Tucket’s soft fur as he lay at her feet. She stared up at the stars, so brilliant in the moonless sky. It was the sky of a world without electricity, and its beauty awed her. Around her, fires crackled in the other caves, as did the large fire pit in the center of the village. Chogan had mentioned that during times of feasting, there was dancing around the fire pit, but there would be no dancing tonight. A hushed murmer of conversation floated by from the Munsees sitting around the fires, and she knew they spoke about her.
A council was under way inside one of the longhouses that would decide Soka’s fate. Earlier, while Bridget had watched from a distance, some of Tackapausha’s loyal warriors had marched Soka into the longhouse. Then a voice had whispered Bridget’s name from behind her, making her almost jump out of her paper skin. It was Askook, sneaking up to watch his people getting ready for the trial.
“I see you worry, demon,” he had hissed, the snake tattoos on his cheeks writhing. “You should worry for yourself. Your very soul is in danger. It drips out of you. Drip drip. I would very much like to drink it up.”
Askook had grinned, and his smile dripped madness.
“You’re a sicko!” Bridget said, shuddering as she backed away. “How can everyone not see that?”
“Maybe they do and they don’t care,” Askook had said, shrugging. “I tell Tackapausha how to make his dream of revenge come true. He does not care about the rest.” He stepped forward, prompting Bridget to stagger back. “I shall make you my special project. There must be some way to open you up like a nut. Soka is not so powerful with the magical arts. I would like to cut you open and see what happens to your soul. Will it stay trapped in here with us? Will it fly away? Can I imprison it in something a bit sturdier than that paper body you wear? Or should I just devour it? We will find out together, you and I.”
“You stay away from me!” Bridget cried as the snaketattood man took another dangerous step toward her. Suddenly Askook looked past her.
“The council begins and I must join in,” he said. He gave her a nasty smile. “I am watching you. I can see you wherever you go. Perhaps I will just crack you open like an oyster and eat you whole. We will see.”
It had taken hours for Bridget to stop shivering. Even now, she kept thinking she could see Askook’s face leering out at her from the shadows. She needed to get out of here, she decided.
“It sickens me to see what our elder council has become,” Chogan said, stepping up beside her to poke the fire emphatically with a stick, sending embers flying through the air like lightning bugs. Tucket’s head reared up to stalk this new prey, snapping at the tiny fires as they floated by. “We used to be governed by many equal voices. Your people learned much of their democracy from us, after all. It worked so well: Penhawitz was sachem, overseeing the day-to-day needs of the tribe, and Tackapausha was war leader, leading the hunt and all things war. But then Tackapausha had to seize control, forcing his own father out for being short on revenge. It was a disgrace! There is a reason we separate the defense of the tribe from the government; they require very different men, with very different strengths. But now we just have the one sachem, and our whole world is out of balance.”
“What happened to Penhawitz, anyway?”
“He left,” Chogan said, clearly frustrated. “No one knows where he went. We’ve heard of sightings from everywhere from the Ravine to Seneca Village.”
“What’s Seneca Village? Another Indian settlement?”
“No, it’s a newcomer town a little ways north of here. We often trade with them. It’s filled with the spirits of your people. After all, we Munsees weren’t the only ones locked up in this Trap.”
“What do you mean? I thought only the Munsees were caught in here.”
“Oh no,” Chogan said. “Any spirit inside the park when the blue barrier rose up was trapped. Many of the giant beasts that used to roam this land in ancient times had wandered down to the park, attracted by the new wilderness. They, too, are in here with us—plaguing us. And some of your people, the Mayor’s own subjects, were living here when the Trap was sprung. Seneca Village was home to many of them; they reside there still, unable to leave, just like the rest of us. Your mayor didn’t only hurt us; he hurt his own people.”
A new voice piped up from the area of their ankles.
“There you are! You are harder to find than my helmet when I’m late! I’ve been searching all day! Finally, I had to set my homing device to ‘paper.’ Not easy.”
Looking down, Bridget spied a familiar sight: a roach making its way across the ground. Tucket turned his attent
ion away from the flying embers with a happy yip, eager to play with this new toy. The roach lifted his arm and sprayed the dog on the snout, sending Tucket away with a whine.
“Take that, you big brute!” the roach said.
“Hans!” Bridget said, delighted.
“Sorry about that,” the roach said, continuing toward Bridget, leaving the dog sneezing in its wake. “It’s just pheromones; they won’t hurt him. I developed them to keep him from smelling us when we trailed Rory.” The roach reached up to lift off his helmet, revealing a youthful, smiling face.
“It’s a Wemetaken’is! One of the little people!” Chogan sat up in excitement.
“Hey!” Hans warned him. “I’m no little person, okay, Captain Sweatstain? I’m a battle roach.”
“What are you doing here?” Bridget asked.
“Fritz sent me to look after you. Though you look like you’re doing all right so far . . .”
“That will change.” Sooleawa stepped into the firelight, Soka behind her. Soka looked chastised, and she held her mother’s hand tightly. “Even now, Tackapausha is thinking of ways to use you, Bridget, to get to your brother. That is why he is giving you the illusion of freedom; it keeps you here in the village.”
“Well, I don’t think I want to stay here anymore,” Bridget said. “Not with that Askook creep sneaking around. What happened with you, Soka? Are you all right?”
Soka nodded, then looked to her mother. Sooleawa’s eyes burned in the firelight.
“They are deliberating on her punishment now. It was only through my influence that I was able to convince them to let me take her to wash. Foolish. Do they truly think I will stand by while they banish my daughter, my beloved Sokanon?” Her eyes flashed in the firelight.
“Mother, I will face my fate. I am not afraid,” Soka said quietly.
“I am afraid!” Sooleawa exclaimed. “Afraid of what that worm Askook will do when no one is watching. I must stay here, to be the voice of reason to counter Tackapausha’s drive for revenge. But you, Bridget, you can take my daughter and go after the woman you came to find. Not only is she Hamilton’s daughter, but Tackapausha loved her as his own. She might be the only one who could talk sense into him. The hope is slim, but it is all we have.”
“I don’t want to leave you, Mother,” Soka said. Sooleawa cupped her chin with one hand.
“I am fine,” she said, smiling at her daughter. “Head north, toward the Great Hill, and see if you can find any trace of her. Seneca is the gateway to the north; you would do well to try to pick up her trail there.”
“Don’t worry, Soka,” Bridget assured the Munsee girl. “This won’t take too long. Central Park is only so big, right?”
Sooleawa, Soka, and Chogan all shook their heads at this with a smile.
“You have no idea,” Soka said.
Less than an hour later, Bridget and her companions sneaked away from the Munsee village under the cover of night. As they made their way through the shadowy forest, gradually leaving the flickering fires of the settlement behind, Bridget caught a glimpse of Soka’s face in the starlight. The Munsee girl was crying silently in the dark.
“It’ll be okay,” Bridget whispered. “We’ll be back before you know it and everyone will see you were right. I promise.”
“I hope so,” Soka replied, wiping her eyes. “I never wanted to hurt my people. And now they want to kick me out.”
“Rory will bring down the Trap and make everything all right,” Bridget promised. “You’ll see. He can do anything. Anyway, no one wants to kick you out. Just Tackapausha, and that Askook weirdo. And Abigail will set them straight. We’re all good, okay?”
“Okay.” Soka sniffed, then set her shoulders. “Then let’s move quickly. We want to get there soon, before my people realize we’re missing. Mother promised to leave a false trail that leads south toward the fountain, so that should grant us a little time.”
“I think we better keep the chatter down, then, so we don’t spoil all her hard work by being loudmouths,” Hans said from his spot in Bridget’s pocket. “Let’s keep our focus on the trail so no one trips and flattens a poor battle roach who’s just along for the ride, okay?”
Soka picked up the pace, leading Bridget and Tucket through the trees as quickly as she dared. Bridget was glad she had a paper body; if she’d been flesh and blood, she’d be wheezing like an old lady. Soka didn’t seem to feel the effects; she kept soldiering on, her face stone.
They continued to make their way north, passing the Great Lawn on their right. Bridget opened her mouth to ask why they didn’t try running through that open field rather than falling over themselves in the dense trees, but then a giant shadow swooped across the meadow, dropping down from above to grab something before flying off. Bridget’s mouth remained open in surprise as Soka gave her an amused glance.
“Giant owl,” Soka whispered. “Feeding on a deer, I believe. Just keep to the trees and don’t act too deerlike, and you should be fine.”
Soka led onward. Eventually, they left the Great Lawn behind, and finally, Soka pulled up by a small group of bushes around a huge elm. She pushed them aside to reveal a hollow hidden from the trail.
“We’ll spend the rest of the night here,” she announced, climbing on hands and knees into the brush. Bridget dropped down to follow her, wincing as the branches scraped her paper skin. She hoped she wasn’t leaving behind any wood shavings. Once Tucket climbed into the hollow, Soka let the bushes fall back, hiding them from sight in their tiny hole at the base of the tree.
“Do the others know about this spot?” Hans asked, stretching after his confinement to Bridget’s pocket.
“No, this is my place,” Soka replied. “I come here to think sometimes. Preparing to be a medicine woman takes a lot of hard thinking.”
As if to prove it, Soka leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes. She seemed so serious it made Bridget sad. She missed the twinkle-eyed girl she’d first met. She bet Rory would restore that twinkle, a thought that made Bridget smile. Maybe they’d get married and have little half-serious/halftwinkly babies. Eww. She’d gone too far in her daydreaming and grossed herself out.
She closed her eyes, though she knew she wouldn’t really sleep. Maybe she’d keep one eye open, for giant owls. This park was far more dangerous than she’d ever imagined.
18
SENECA VILLAGE
A skook knelt down in the dirt beneath the tall chestnut trees not far from the Munsee village. He didn’t expect to be stumbled upon, but it would not harm him if someone were to happen by. The eerie sight of what he was about to do would to only help his dangerous reputation. After all, without fear, where would he be?
Most of Tackapausha’s warriors had headed south, following a path Askook suspected to be false. Probably laid by that witch, Sooleawa. He’d often wondered how she’d managed to hold onto her magic after being cut off from the land. Their people’s powers came from the island itself, and most of the other Munsees had diminished since the Trap had denied them the source of their magic. Before, even that fat fool Chogan had been able to turn into a blackbird now and again. But since the Trap, Tackapausha himself could barely do basic magic, and that was with the help of his War Leader’s belt. Yet somehow Sooleawa and her daughter managed to call on an impressive amount of power. Maybe after the coming slaughter, Askook would save the medicine woman for some pointed questions. He ran his finger over the blade of the knife in his hand. He looked forward to that conversation.
The Trap could not deny him his power, however. He felt around with his mind. There it was—the hole in the Trap made just for him. Kieft had promised to give him power in exchange for his help, and the black-eyed god had not disappointed him, burrowing a hole in the barrier surrounding the park for his exclusive use. Askook drew magic through the hole and guided it into the flint knife in his hand. Time to find out what Soka and the demon girl were up to.
Once the knife was glowing, he opened the sack at his side,
pulling out a squirming rabbit. A quick slice later, a small pool of blood gathered at his feet, infused with the magic from the blade. Tossing aside the hare’s still body, Askook peered intently into the red pool, searching. And gradually, familiar forms began to take shape. Soka and the demon girl lay hidden in a hollow, somewhere north of the Ramble. He had an idea of where they were going, a thought that caused a slow grin to spread across his eager face. This was going to be fun . . .
The night had passed uneventfully, though Bridget thought she had heard a shout at one point, somewhere in the distance. But no one came by their hidden spot. Finally, the sky brightened as the morning light trickled down through the trees above, sending little leaf-shaped shadows dancing across the ground. Somewhere, a rooster crowed, a sound Bridget had only heard on television. Soka roused herself, as did Hans, who couldn’t find his helmet for a moment and panicked before realizing he’d been leaning against it the whole time. Springing to his feet, Tucket went to work licking Bridget’s arm.
“I’m already awake, doofus.” She laughed.
“Everyone ready?” Soka asked. “We need to be careful at Seneca Village, in case Tackapausha sent scouts this way. Come on.”
She led them out of the brush and back onto the path. As they walked under the trees, which glowed softly in the early morning light, Soka told Bridget and Hans the story of Seneca Village. Settled by free blacks in the early nineteenth century in then-rural upper Manhattan, Seneca soon became home as well to Irish, Germans, and other European immigrants, making the small village one of the few places at the time where blacks and whites lived together in peace. The village had its own school, its own churches, and its own farms, the different races mixing together peacefully in a way unheard of throughout the rest of the United States. It wasn’t to last, however, as the city officals downtown began to eye their land for the new park they were planning. The citizens of Seneca Village were evicted by Manhattan City Hall, and their home of the past third of a century was razed to make way for Central Park. The memory of Seneca Village remained, however, as did the spirits of many of the inhabitants, so when the Trap to imprison the Munsees was sprung, the unlucky souls in Seneca found themselves trapped as well. But they made the best of it, living out their lives as they had done before, farming the land, working together in peace, and welcoming all who showed up at their doorstep.
