We followed the orderly into a large hall where cots were laid out in long rows. A few soldiers were snoring away, but most of the cots were empty. "There and there," the orderly said, pointing out a couple of cots near the back.
"Thank you," I said.
He shook his head. "It's not right," he replied. I felt like we had ruined his day.
Kevin slumped down onto one of the cots. "I thought an orderly was, like, someone who mopped floors," he said.
I shrugged. "In another world," I murmured. I put my rifle down, flopped onto the cot next to him, and pulled the thin blanket over me. "The guys who slept here last night are dead now," I said, staring up at the ceiling, which flickered in the lamplight. "Kinda creeps me out."
"Everything here is creeping me out," Kevin said. And then after a pause he added: "I wonder why Sergeant Hornbeam was following us."
"What makes you think he was following us?" I asked. "Maybe he just happened to see us come in here and wanted to do us a favor."
"Whatever," he said. "Tomorrow morning we head home."
I didn't reply. Too tired. I closed my eyes and thought about the soldier who had lain on this cot last night. Scared. Excited. Maybe too excited to fall asleep. Maybe he wasn't a whole lot older than me. Maybe he thought he was going to be a hero. And now he was just... gone. Lying in the morgue. Probably be buried in the morning, in one of those big holes people like Chester dug. I shuddered and tried to stop thinking about him.
And instead I thought about that other soldier, with the wispy mustache, looking kind of scared as he rushed towards me, his sword gleaming. Where had he slept last night? What had he thought about?
I wondered what happened to the enemy dead—how did they get buried?
It had been a tough day. I just had to stop thinking.
Eventually my body must have agreed, because the next thing I knew I was riding in a wagon at top speed. The road was bumpy and I was being tossed all over the place, but I couldn't slow down. I didn't know why at first, and then I realized that Portuguese soldiers were chasing me on horseback. I turned to look at them, and one was the short bearded guy that Chester had killed, and the other was the kid with the wispy mustache, and I tried to shout to them that it was war, kill or be killed, nothing personal, but they didn't understand or didn't care, and they were closing in on my wagon, so I had to go faster, faster...
I opened my eyes. Kevin was shaking me. "Wake up," he whispered. "Time to go."
Groggily I got to my feet. There weren't any windows, I noticed. Thin gray light came in through chinks in the boards. The soldiers snored and mumbled in their cots. Had I really slept all night? We made our way through the cots and into the outer room. The same orderly was still there. He was half-asleep, but he glared at us as we walked by like we had ruined the war for him. Then we were outside. It was bitter cold. For some reason I thought about the arguments I'd had with my mom about putting on my gloves for the short walk to the bus stop. Wouldn't it be great if I had gloves?
"Now what?" I said.
"Now we go," Kevin replied.
"How far is it?" I asked. "Ten miles? Twenty?" I really had no idea how far Glanbury was from Boston. "Think we'll make it?"
"Yeah, we'll make it." He sounded like nothing in this world was going to keep him from making it.
"Well, how do we get past the guards at the fortifications?"
"I dunno. Why should they care? They're supposed to keep the Portuguese out, not us in. Let's go down back to the main road and see what's going on."
We hadn't gone twenty feet, though, when I heard a voice behind me. "Hey Lawrence, what are you doing here?"
I turned around and saw Stinky Glover hurrying towards us.
Chapter 25
Stinky came up to us. "G'morning, Lawrence," he said.
"Hi, uh, Julian. This is my friend Kevin."
"Hello, mate." Stinky glanced at Kevin's cap, but didn't say anything.
They shook hands. Kevin didn't look happy to see him. In our world, he hated Stinky Glover as much as I did. Stinky liked to give him purple nurples; Kevin hated purple nurples—who doesn't? But this world was different. With all the things that had been happening, had I told Kevin about Stinky saving me from those kids in Cheapside?
"We're heading to Glanbury," I said.
Stinky looked puzzled. "Now?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"We want to help the Barnes family," I said. "Get things ready for when they come home."
Not a very good answer, but I couldn't come up with a better one. "Didn't you tell me you were related to them?" Stinky asked.
"That's right. And I got to know them pretty well in the camp," I explained. "Mr. Barnes is in the army, so I figured they might need some help."
"But why now?" Stinky persisted. "The Portuguese are still out there north of Glanbury, I expect, even if they're in full retreat. And anyway—"
"Doesn't matter," Kevin interrupted. "We're going. Come on, Larry." He started to walk away.
I hesitated, and then said, "Well, see you, Julian," and turned to go with Kevin.
"Wait a moment!" Stinky called out. "I'll join you!"
Kevin rolled his eyes. "No way," he muttered to me.
But we paused, and Stinky came up to us again. "Do you know where the Barnes farm is located?" he asked.
"Well, no," I admitted.
"I can show you. Besides, three'll be better than two if there are dangers on the road—and I'm sure there will be."
"Why do you want to help us?" Kevin demanded.
Stinky grimaced. "I've worn out my welcome here, I fear," he replied. "I try to make myself useful, but it's been hard. Lots of folks just take a dislike to me. I don't know why. Now that the battle's over, I expect the soldiers'll throw me out of the camp rather than keep on feeding me. I'll have to return to Glanbury sooner or later and see if my master will take me back. Might as well do it now."
Made sense to me. Kevin looked suspicious, but he didn't say anything. "All right," I said. "Let's go, then."
Stinky's grimace turned into a big smile. "Let's go," he repeated.
We headed back to the main road, which Stinky said was called the Post Road. When we finally got there, I was surprised to see that nothing had really changed since yesterday: there were still guards posted, and people were arguing with them to be let through, even though it was barely dawn. "We've no food," one man was saying to a guard. "We've no shelter. We'll die if you don't let us go home."
"We have our orders," the soldier explained with a weary shrug, as if he'd explained it a million times already. "It's not safe out there. Besides, the Portuguese fired the bridge over the Neponset. How are you going to cross the river?"
"We'll take our chances!" the man shouted. "Would you rather we drop dead here in front of you?"
We had one big advantage over those people: we were on the other side of the guards. "The army'll surely change their minds today," Stinky noted. "That fellow is right—better to let people risk the journey home if they have a mind to try it. There's nothing left for them here. But this is still dangerous—we risk having the New Englanders shoot at us as well as the Portuguese. Why don't we just wait and see what happens?"
Kevin shook his head. "You wait if you want to," he said. "I'm leaving."
Stinky looked at me, as if to ask where I'd found this strange kid with the strange hat. But I wasn't going to let Kevin leave by himself. "We really want to get to Glanbury," I said.
Stinky considered. "All right, then," he said reluctantly. "Let's keep going. I think I know a way past the fortifications, although it's awfully roundabout. And then we still have to find a way across the river."
So we kept walking. The sun rose ahead of us in the east, but it didn't make us any warmer. Soldiers were up and about; none of them paid any attention to us. After a while the camp and the fortifications petered out, with only a couple of observation towers looking out over marshland that stretched towards th
e ocean. "They figured the Portuguese weren't going to attack over the marshes," Stinky said. "Too hard to maneuver, too exposed. So they just put up these towers. We have to cross the marsh, and then work our way back towards the Post Road. And find a boat or a raft or something to cross the river."
"The marsh doesn't look too hard," Kevin said.
"Unless the soldiers in the watchtowers see us," I pointed out. "And decide to shoot."
That didn't faze Kevin. "Let's go," he said.
Stinky glanced at me again. "Coming, Julian?" I asked him.
He didn't seem too happy about it, but he nodded. "Keep to the left," he said. "If the watchtowers are still manned, the soldiers'll be looking south. We can circle around when we're out of range of their rifles."
"All right," I said. "Sounds good."
Kevin started off without saying a word. We hurried after him.
There was a bitter wind blowing over the marsh, and my eyes started watering. The metal of my rifle was so cold it stung. Frostbite, I thought. Stay out here too long and we'll get frostbite.
The long brown marsh grass was harder to walk across than I had expected. Every step we took, we broke through a crust of frost. And it looked like we had a ways to go to get beyond the marsh. Suddenly I felt dizzy from cold and hunger.
And then we heard the shots. "Run!" Stinky shouted.
I took a quick look back. There were soldiers in the watchtowers with their rifles aimed at us.
I started running. Kevin stumbled, and I had to drag him back to his feet. He was usually way faster than me, but the drikana must have slowed him down; even carrying the rifle I was faster now. Stinky was the slowest. He was gasping for breath right away and struggled to keep up with us. But we couldn't slow down—I could hear the bullets whistle past us, so I knew we were still in range. "C'mon, let's go!" I called out to them. I sloshed through some water and hurdled a little stream that cut through the marsh. My lungs were bursting, but I kept going, expecting any second that a bullet would rip into me.
But none did. Eventually I realized there weren't any more shots. I looked back. Kevin and Stinky were still running, but they had slowed down a lot. I could make out the soldiers in the watchtowers, but I couldn't tell what they were doing. Didn't matter, as long as they weren't shooting at us anymore.
"Think we're... out of... range," Stinky gasped when he reached me. Kevin just flopped down on the grass.
"Will they come after us?" I asked.
"Who knows? Don't even know why they bothered shooting at us."
"Maybe they're just bored," Kevin said.
"You all right?" I asked him. He was still trying to catch his breath.
"I think so."
I sat down next to him. My sneakers were soaked. My feet felt numb. Frostbite, I thought again.
"Got to keep going," Stinky said. "If we stay here, I wager they'll come out to get us."
"If we stay here, we'll be dead before long anyway," I said. I got up. "Can you make it?" I asked Kevin.
He nodded. "Just needed a breather," he muttered. I held out my hand, and he took it. I pulled him up, and we started off again.
It wasn't long before we came to the river. We stopped and stared at it, flowing peacefully out to the ocean. It wasn't a very big river, but we sure didn't have a way to cross it. I looked at Stinky. He shrugged. "Let's head upriver," he said. "We'll need to go that way eventually. Maybe we'll find a boat somewhere."
Kevin and I didn't have any better ideas, so that's what we did.
We started walking inland, with the river on our left. The path we were on twisted towards the river, then away from it. We didn't spot any bridges, or any boats we could borrow to get us across. It was frustrating, and I could see that Kevin was getting upset. Well, he'd been warned.
"Look down there," Stinky said.
We saw smoke coming out of the chimney of a shack by the river. Beyond the shack was a boat tied up at a little dock.
"Somebody's home," Kevin said. "Let's ask for a ride."
"Could be dangerous," Stinky pointed out. "If they've been living out here all through the siege, they won't be the sort who like company."
"Worth a try," Kevin said, and he started down the path to the shack. "Hello?" he called out. "Can you help us? We need to get across the river."
There was no response.
"Hello?" he repeated. Stinky and I came up behind him. There was all kinds of junk next to the house—broken barrels, wine bottles, a lobster pot—and a ton of firewood neatly stacked by the door. I could smell fish frying. I hated fish, but the smell made my stomach growl.
We saw the barrel of a rifle point out from a window. "Who are ye?" a gruff, cracked voice said.
"We're New Englanders," Kevin said. "Just trying to get home after the battle."
"Put down the rifle."
He was talking to me. I laid my weapon down on the ground.
The rifle barrel disappeared from the window, and a moment later a gnarled old man wearing a woolen cap appeared, aiming the rifle at us. "Ye're children," he said. "Where are your parents?"
"We were separated from our parents in the battle," Stinky lied. "We're trying to get home to Glanbury. Can you help us?"
"Who won the battle?" he demanded. His accent was different from anyone else I'd heard in this world—not English, exactly, just sort of old-fashioned. I got the impression that he didn't talk very much.
"New England did," Stinky said. "Have you seen any Portuguese retreating?"
He shook his head. "Saw 'em before, though, foragin' along the river. Nasty brutes. Killed a couple."
"How'd you stay away from them?"
"I know more about these parts'n they do. Take more than the Portuguese to get hold of old Bart Willoughby."
"So, can you row us across the river?" Kevin asked.
The old man peered at him. "What can you pay me?" he demanded.
We looked at each other. "I have, like, six shillings," I said. Professor Palmer had given me some money once, but there really hadn't been anything to spend it on.
The old man shook his head. "Six shilling's won't even buy a loaf of bread in these times," he said. Then he peered at Kevin. "That's an interesting hat," he said. "I'll take you across the river for that hat."
Kevin blinked. He loved his Red Sox cap. But he took it off and handed it to the man. "All right," he muttered. "Fine."
The old man grinned. He only had a couple of teeth. He took his woolen cap off right away and replaced it with the Red Sox cap. It made him look crazy. "All right, lads," he said. "Let's go."
I picked up my rifle. The old man led us down to the boat, and we all climbed in. It was a little rowboat, and our weight made it ride low in the water. But the old man was strong, and with a few powerful strokes he had us gliding out towards the middle of the river. "Bad times in the city, I heard," he said.
"Yes, sir," I replied. "Too many people, not enough food."
He shook his head. "Too many people there in the best of times. They tried to get me to go to one of them camps, but I wanted no part of it."
"You weren't afraid to be here by yourself?"
"Lad, I've lived too long to be afraid of anything."
I thought of the old man in the camp standing by the gate and begging me for help. And the corpse Kevin and I had seen there yesterday morning, its gray hair blowing in the wind. Maybe this guy had the right idea.
We pulled up to the opposite shore. "Thank you, sir," Stinky said as we got out.
"Call me Bart," he replied. Then he pointed to the cap and started to cackle. "See, lad? 'B' for Bart! Fare ye well." He maneuvered the boat around and started rowing back across the river.
"Let's go," Kevin said without even glancing back.
We found a path and headed towards the Post Road. After a while we came upon a small settlement—a few houses, a horse barn, a church. Everything looked empty, abandoned. "Do you think we can stop here?" I asked. "Maybe start a fire in one of these hous
es? I need to warm up."
"I'm not tired," Kevin said. But he was lying, I knew.
"It's not about being tired," I replied. "My feet are freezing. I'm worried about frostbite."
"Whatever," Kevin said with a shrug. I think he wanted to take a break, but didn't want to be the one to suggest it.
None of the houses were locked. We went into the biggest one; even it had just one large room containing a few chairs, a bed with a straw mattress, and a small table. On the wall was a shelf with an old bible on it and a bad painting of President Coolidge. We found some tinder and a flint on the fireplace mantel. Stinky and I gathered some scraps of wood outside, and within a few minutes we had a smoky fire going.
We all took off our shoes and socks to dry them. Stinky glanced at the Adidas shoes Kevin and I set by the fire but didn't say anything. And he hadn't said anything about Kevin's cap. He didn't seem like a very curious kid. How different was he from the Stinky we knew in our world? He didn't seem mean—just sort of, I don't know, pitiful. And he had sure helped me out so far.
We all lay down in front of the fire to rest and warm up. It wasn't very comfortable, but I shut my eyes, and I must have fallen asleep right away. When I opened them, the fire had died out and Kevin was putting his sneakers back on. Stinky was still asleep. "Let's go," Kevin whispered. "We can leave him here."
"C'mon, Kevin. Stinky can help. Remember? He knows where the Barnes farm is."
"I don't care about the Barnes farm, Larry. I care about the portal, and he's not going to help us find that."
"Well, I care about both," I said. "And what about food? I'm starving already, and we still have a lot of miles to cover. We're going to have to either beg for food, if there's anyone around to beg it from, or go hunting. I've got this rifle, but I don't really know how to load it or anything. And neither do you."
Kevin shrugged. "I just don't trust him. If you're a jerk in one world, you're probably a jerk in every other world."
Stinky stirred then. I reached for my sneakers and started to put them on. "That's better," he said, sitting up and stretching. "Probably been here a couple of hours," he added, gesturing at the ashes of the fire.
The Portal Page 22
