"Yes, sir, that's what I'm saying. I'm your son on another world, where medicine is better, and they can cure fevers and consumption and smallpox. I didn't die of whatever killed me here. I'm just a regular boy who goes to school and has an older sister who complains too much and a younger brother who talks too much. And a wonderful mother who worries about all of us all the time."
"Well frankly, I don't see how you can expect us to—"
As he spoke I realized that he wasn't the one I needed to be talking to. "Do you believe me?" I asked Mom.
She was gripping Dad's arm now. A single tear worked its way down her cheek. "Of course I do, Larry," she whispered. "Of course I do."
Dad turned to her. "Emma," he said, "I know how grateful you are to Larry, but—"
She shook her head. "No, that's not it. I know him, Henry. I know him. I couldn't understand it—couldn't understand this feeling I had when I looked at him, when I talked to him—but now I do. He's our son. He's my baby. I don't understand anything more, and I don't need to."
We were silent again. I could hear the ticking of the clock on the rear wall of the church, and the distant sound of the joyful music from the church hall.
"I suppose we'll find out the truth of it soon enough," Dad said to me. "If this—this portal is still there by Joshua Fitton's farm, we should be able to find it, invisible or not. And then you can use it go home."
Home. All those conversations with Kevin, and now the moment had arrived.
"Well... I don't know," I said.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "What don't you know?"
"See, I was thinking of staying. You know, to help you out. There's a lot I don't know about farming and stuff, but I can learn. I can be part of this family too. I feel like—like I already am."
I hadn't known I was going to say that. I had thought about it a lot, but I hadn't ever really decided. Now, there it was.
But instead of acting all happy, Mom was shaking her head. "You have to go home, Larry. I love you, but you can't stay here."
"Trying to go home could be dangerous," I pointed out. "We don't even know if the portal will take us home. We might end up in some universe where the Earth doesn't even exist. Kevin is willing to take the risk—he doesn't have a family here. But I have you, and I don't want to give you up."
I could tell the idea of the danger bothered Mom, but it wasn't enough to change her mind. "If—if I'm there, too, imagine how much I miss you. Every moment of every day, Larry. Wondering where my baby went."
So I guess I hadn't really thought it through. I thought maybe they wouldn't believe me and I'd have to convince them, but once they were convinced they'd be happy to have me stay. I could see now how stupid that was. In reality, Mom loved me so much that she had to let me go.
But she couldn't force me to go. If I stayed here, she might feel guilty, but she'd get over it. And for all I knew, maybe we could figure out how to come back here in the portal, and I could be part of both worlds. It was possible, wasn't it?
"I don't know," I said. "I don't want to leave you, now that I've found you."
"I understand, Larry," she replied. "I don't want you to leave either. But you have to. And I'm sure you know it. Take some time to think it over." She stood up. "For now, why don't we go back to the hall?" she said. "Really, we have much to celebrate."
"Do you mind if I stay here for a while?" I said. "Maybe I do need to think about things."
Mom shook her head and put her hand on my arm. "That is very wise, Larry."
Dad stood up too. "I certainly want to talk more with you, Larry," he said. "But perhaps this is enough for now."
I nodded and watched the two of them as they walked out of the church. Then I leaned back in the pew and closed my eyes. Now what? Kevin would want to head off to look for the portal as soon as possible—he'd do it right now if he could. So should I obey my mother and go with him? Go back to a world where I didn't matter, where our family argued morning and night and the schoolbus was a nightmare and I never learned or did a single thing that was really important, that really made a difference?
Where my mother missed me every moment of every day?
I tried to pray. I've never been good at praying, but now seemed like a pretty good time to ask for help. So I did.
I don't know how long I sat there. When I finally opened my eyes, the lamp was burning low and I knew I should get back to the church hall. I stood up. And that's when I heard the noise behind me.
It was—well—it was a quiet noise. A rustle, a breath. I wasn't really sure I had heard anything. But I turned, and in the dimness I saw the outline of a figure standing at the back of the church.
My heart started thumping. "Who are you?" I whispered.
"I really could use that coat back," the figure replied. And he took a step forward.
Chapter 32
Soft voice, black beard, glittering eyes.
The preacher from the Burger Queen world, from the park in Boston. The guy who had left his coat behind for me. The guy who had told me it was all his fault.
"Who are you?" I repeated, more insistently. I moved a little closer to him. He was wearing a ragged brown coat now. His hair was wet from the snow.
"A traveler, like you," he replied, still standing in the doorway.
"What do you want?"
He shook his head. "A better question might be: What do you want?"
"I want to know why you're following me. I want to know what you know that I don't."
"I wouldn't say that I'm following you," he said. "It's more that... our paths have crossed."
"Whatever. The portal—is that your machine?"
"'Portal'—is that what you call it? Kind of clichéd, don't you think? Couldn't you come up with something more original? 'Cosmic gateway'—what about that?"
I was starting to get angry. "You didn't answer my question—you're not answering any of my questions."
He smiled sheepishly. "I know," he said. "It's kind of a habit. We're not really supposed to answer questions."
"Who is 'we'?" I almost shouted.
"Okay, okay," he said. "Just calm down. I guess I can make an exception for you. You've had a tough time of it. And it wasn't like you meant any harm. You were just, you know, stupid."
I was so upset by now that I thought I might go over and start pounding him. But I managed to stay quiet, and he kept talking.
"So no, the portal, or the cosmic gateway, or whatever, isn't mine, and it isn't exactly a machine—at least, not in the way you think of machines. I just borrow it for my travels. Like you, except not so stupid. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to set foot inside invisible gizmos from other universes? That would be, like, rule number one if I were a parent."
I ignored the insult. "So what is it?" I demanded. "Where does it come from?"
"Okay, that one I really don't know the answer to. There are lots of universes, right? You know that now, of course. Actually, there are probably an infinite number of universes. Imagine one where people have advanced way beyond anything you can imagine, if that makes any sense. Maybe they're not even people, in any sense that we understand. But they develop these portals. And then they disappear. At least—none of us know has a clue where to find them."
"Portals—there's more than one of them?"
"Uh-huh. Or maybe they're all manifestations of a single underlying entity. Who knows?"
I had no idea what that last part meant, but I had another question. "You keep saying 'we', 'us'—are you from my universe? Is there more than one of you?"
"No, I'm from a different universe—although it's not all that different, and I've visited yours from time to time—yours needs a lot of help, if you ask me. Anyway, there's a group of us who use the portal. You might call us a priesthood."
"Priesthood? You're part of a religion?"
He tilted his head and thought for a moment. "Not in the way you'd think of it," he replied. "We don't have a set of beliefs. We're not trying to
convert anyone. We just want to impart some wisdom."
"So you just, like, travel around to different universes and give sermons and stuff?"
He looked insulted. "Well, yes," he said, "but—"
"Don't you help people? I mean, like, this world. What if you could cure drikana? Would you do it?"
He shook his head. "It's forbidden. Simply coming to a world, simply crushing a blade of grass underfoot, is interference enough. We don't tell anyone who we are or where we come from. We just say what we have to say, and then leave."
I thought of giving President Gardner the Heimlich maneuver. If someone's dying, you try to save him. "But that's crazy," I said. "That's—immoral."
"If we save one life, why not save all of them?" he argued. "We're just visitors. Who are we to decide who lives and who dies? It's a small step from that to teaching people how to build better bombs—or electric fences. Look, what's most important is for us to guard against the corruption of power. That's something we face every day. Any of us could become ruler of a run-of-the-mill world like this—we could be worshipped as gods—by using a tenth of what we know. Does that make any sense to you?"
I supposed that it did, but I had more important things I needed to learn from him. "How did you know who I was?" I asked. "Even on that other world it seemed like you could tell I was—I was an outsider. You knew I had come there in the portal. Didn't you?"
He smiled. "Sure. It's not really that hard, after you have some experience. What's obvious to us may not be at all obvious to anyone else, of course."
"So more people use the portals than just you guys?"
"Yes, unfortunately. People like you. Random travelers. And observing the bad results of their interference has made us develop our own rules."
"So am I in trouble or something? I've broken your rules."
He shook his head. "Not at all. We live by our rules. Others do as they please."
That was a relief. But I still hadn't gotten to the really important question. "Can you tell me—can we get home in the portal?" I asked. "We've been looking for it, and now we think we know where it is. But we don't know where it will take us."
"Do you want to go home?" he asked.
"I don't know," I admitted. "This is home too, sort of. But maybe it'd be easier to make a decision if I wasn't worried that we'd end up on a world where we'd be eaten by dinosaurs or something."
"I understand," he replied. Then he was silent for a long time. "Listen," he said finally. "I'm not trying to make things difficult for you—really I'm not. I shouldn't have left the portal in the woods like that in your world. It was too close to an inhabited area, I admit it. If kids find invisible cosmic gateways, they're going to use them. We know that. So I'm trying to help you out. But I'm just not supposed to answer stuff like that. So here's the best I can do: If you want to go home, the portal will take you home."
I couldn't tell if that was an answer or not. So I said, "You once said: It is only by setting out that we can finally return home. Were you talking to me when you said that?"
He shrugged. "I was talking to whoever would listen."
"Well then, what should I do: Should I stay here, or should I go back to where I came from?"
"Ah," he said softly. "Now there's a question I can answer. Sort of. The answer is: Listen to your heart. And only to your heart. It'll tell you what to do."
I should have known that was the sort of thing he'd say.
"One final thing," he added. "The portal? I don't really think you know where it is. I moved it across the road. Too many people in the woods near the Fitton farmhouse. I'm trying to learn my lesson."
Then I heard a door open behind me. I turned and saw Kevin standing in the doorway, looking upset. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "Who are you talking to?"
"I've been right here," I said. "Talking to—" I turned back to the preacher, but of course he was gone. The front door to the church was open. I went outside and looked around, but I couldn't spot him. There were tracks in the snow. I followed them, down the walkway to the street. "Come back here!" I shouted into the night. "You can't just leave like that!"
I tripped and fell, and when I got up I couldn't find the tracks, and I couldn't find him. "Come on!" I shouted again. "Please help us!"
Kevin came up behind me. "What the heck is going on?" he asked.
"The—the preacher—the stupid preacher—" I was too mad to explain.
"Doesn't matter," Kevin interrupted. "You've gotta come with me. Right now."
"Why? What happened?"
"Stinky's a snitch—he's been a snitch all along. He went back to Boston and told the lieutenant where we were, and Carmody's coming to get us. Let's go."
Swell, I thought. What else could go wrong? I followed Kevin back into the church hall.
Chapter 33
"We have to get out of here," Kevin said as we hurried along the dark corridor to the church hall. "We have to get to the portal before Carmody finds us."
"Well, we might have a problem there."
"I don't care if it's snowing, Larry. I don't care if it's a hurricane. We finally know where the portal is. We're going."
We entered the hall, which was almost overpoweringly warm and bright after being in the church and outside in the snow. The musicians were taking a break. Stinky was standing by the fireplace, looking guilty. We went over to him. "What's going on, Julian?" I demanded.
"I'm sorry, Lawrence," he said. "Really I am. If I'd known, I never would have done it."
"I don't understand. Start at the beginning."
He took a deep breath. "Well, see, it started with Sergeant Hornbeam," he said.
"Hornbeam? What about him?"
"You remember how I did favors for the soldiers at the camp? I was just trying to survive, you know—get some extra food once in a while. There wasn't anything bad about it."
"I remember. What about Sergeant Hornbeam?"
"Well, one day he asked me to look after you. He said you were important to the army—he wouldn't say why—and you'd started showing up at the camp. He wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to you."
"Wait—so when you rescued me from those kids who stole my coat—"
"Hornbeam had told me to follow you," Stinky admitted. "But I was glad to do it! Then I didn't see you again until the morning after the battle."
"That was on orders, too?"
He nodded. "After the battle I talked my way past the guards to get into the army camp. I was just looking for a meal and a cot. I had no idea you were there. But I ran into Sergeant Hornbeam again, and he told me to stay with the two of you and keep you safe. He said if I did a good job he'd see to it that I got out of my 'prenticeship so I could join the army.
"And I did do a good job—didn't I? I kept you alive. I got you to Glanbury. And it wasn't just a job—I liked you. You became my mates."
"Gimme a break," Kevin muttered.
Stinky gave Kevin a look that suggested they were no longer quite so matey. "So why did you leave?" I asked.
"Well, you know how it was. The war was over. I couldn't stay with you forever—my master was in town and searching for me. I surely didn't want to run into him. So I made my way back to Boston and started looking for Sergeant Hornbeam. I found him finally, and he brought me to a lieutenant at headquarters—"
"Carmody," I said.
Stinky nodded. "And he was awfully excited to find out you were alive. But he seemed worried that you'd escape again. I heard him talking to the sergeant, and he said, 'Why haven't they found it?' or something like that. 'We've got to catch them before they get away for good.'"
Stinky looked at me pleadingly. "Lawrence, I don't know what you fellows did and I don't want to know. There's a lot I don't understand. I never really believed the stories you told me—about being orphans and such. But I never meant to hurt you. So after I spoke to the lieutenant, I decided I couldn't stay in Boston, even though Sergeant Hornbeam said he was going to take care of me. I
came right back to Glanbury to warn you—got a ride from a peddler part of the way, and I walked the rest. I figured I'd find you here."
"So when is he coming?"
"I don't know," Stinky admitted. "But I don't imagine he'll delay."
"It doesn't matter what he imagines," Kevin said to me. "We have to go."
"I've never had many friends," Stinky said. By now he looked like he was about to cry. "When I met you, I thought perhaps—"
"It's all right, Julian," I said. "Really. I'm grateful you came all the way back here to warn us."
"If there's anything more I can do..."
"You've done enough. Thank you."
We left him and went to find my parents. "Don't see why you were so nice to him," Kevin muttered.
"Don't see why you treated him like a jerk. But listen. The preacher showed up—that's who I was chasing after. The thing is, he said he moved the portal."
"What?"
"Just to the other side of the road—but that might explain why we never found it. But I don't know—talking to him is like talking to Yoda or something. Everything's a riddle, except when he's calling us stupid kids."
Kevin looked like he wanted to shoot somebody. "Your parents," he said. "Did you explain to them—?"
"They know about us and the portal," I said. "They don't know this last bit, though."
My parents were talking to each other across the room. We made our way over to them. "Things are getting complicated," I said. I began by summarizing what Stinky had told us.
Dad was outraged. "No one can force you to stay here," he said. "That lieutenant can't just kidnap you. This isn't New Portugal. There are laws. If you don't want to stay, you don't have to."
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