“All the rocks, dust, and rubble?” asked Noah, not seeing much else.
“Hmmph,” said the man, wiping his fingers. “Hmmph,” he huffed again.
As the children were herded towards one car, Jasper looked to see the man take the scrap of paper out of his pocket and hand it to the derby-wearing man in black. The two spoke together softly as they walked toward the train.
If it’s his, Jasper wondered, why did he give it to the man in black?
The odd skinny man stepped up onto the train, his white handkerchief protecting his hand from the railing. He turned toward the children, standing in the doorway. “Do not look, hear me?” he said, shaking a finger
“What?” said Jasper, who was not sure he had heard the man correctly. “Don’t look at what?” But the man had disappeared into the train. Jasper looked—that is, he instinctively looked around. What did the man mean?
“What about Mummy and Daddy and everyone else?” Lucy asked, standing firm in place.
“In go car,” said the derby-wearing mysterious man in black, who herded the rest of them into the automobile.
“I don’t want to leave Mummy,” Lucy said, her arms folded determinedly across her chest. “Or Miss Brett.” The man merely picked her up and put her in the motor car.
“Miss Brett!” Faye shouted. She, too, suddenly realized they were without their teacher. From the looks on the boys’ faces, they had realized it as well. Even so, the boys climbed into the automobile.
Faye reluctantly climbed in after Lucy, and the door was closed behind her. Looking out the back of the car, she saw the odd skinny man with the kerchief looking out the window of the train. He then moved away from it, leaving it dark and empty. The other two motorcars took off in opposite directions. The motorcar they were in began to drive directly away from the train.
From the window of the car, the children could see inside the salon. All of the parents were gathered there, standing together. Miss Brett was shaking her head. She was upset. Dr. Isobel Modest turned toward the window. Jasper thought his mother looked sad. Or perhaps she was worried. She looked right at him, though they were moving away from the train so swiftly that he could hardly see her face anymore. But he thought she said something—something to him. Then it was too far to see, and the late afternoon sun reflected in his eyes, but still he could make out Miss Brett as she left the salon through the door to the dining car
Lucy began to wave, then began waving frantically from the back window, as if this would somehow stop something about to happen.
But it did happen. And it happened right there. With it came a terror the children had never felt before. What they saw would haunt them, and keep haunting them, long after they would come to understand what had happened.
The train, with everything and everyone in it, exploded before their eyes.
“The train!!!” screamed Jasper, his hand pressed against the glass of the motorcar. Wallace seemed to be mouthing words that no one could hear. Noah just stared. Faye’s face went white.
“Mummy!!!” screamed Lucy through the back window, her waving now a frantic blur. “Miss Brett!”
A huge plume of smoke grew like a thunder cloud, darkening the skies above them. At first, the impossible horror was beyond their enormous ken—beyond what even they could understand.
But what their eyes saw took a moment to hit their brains. Tears began to flow down Wallace’s stricken face. He could not move and could not speak. Noah’s mouth hung open as if it hoped something would arrive in it that might explain what had happened. Faye went from being frozen in her seat to shouting, banging her hands against the windows.
Jasper shook his head. He knew that all the shouting in the world could not undo what had just happened.
With each beat of their hearts, flashes hit them like more explosions. Faces of their parents, faces of each other—fire, heat, loss. They were in a panic beyond panic. They were in a terror beyond terror. And they watched, helplessly, as the car continued to drive away from the explosion. The train was completely devoured by the smoke as they came to a hill and turned around the bend. The billows of smoke rose high above the top of the hill and cast a dark shadow over the otherwise white clouds floating gently against the blue sky
“Stop the car!” shouted Noah suddenly, tears streaming down his face. The man driving did not appear to hear him. He drove on as if nothing had happened. Faye tried to smash the glass between them and the driver. But the glass seemed to be made of steel, and the window would not break. And the driver seemed to be made of the same hard, impenetrable material as the glass.
Lucy shouted and cried and waved furiously out of the back window, as if this would somehow bring back the train. Faye could not breathe. Suddenly, with a shove, she pushed the door open and jumped out of the moving car, skinning her knees and slicing the palms of her hands.
Gasping, on all fours, she could not feel the gashes on her hands and knees—only the air filling her lungs and, with it, a more vivid vision of the horror she had just witnessed. With the wind came the stinging smoke, now also filling her lungs. It did not stop her from sucking in what air she could.
The man in black turned the car around and slowed down. Noah then threw himself out after Faye, rolling as he hit the ground. As Faye dragged her bruised and scraped body up from the dirt and began to run, Noah just lay there, rocking from side to side.
The car jerked to a stop. Jasper grabbed for Lucy, but she jumped from the car, too, and ran after Faye. She was losing everyone. She had to catch Faye and bring her back. Jasper followed his sister
Faye’s lungs were not the only thing that burned, straining as she ran. Her brain felt as if it were on fire. Something about this was familiar to Faye—the need to run, the cold sweat that came from being trapped in a tiny space. She had felt it when her parents had first left her back in Ohio. She had felt the need just to get out of that carriage—that first big, black carriage. She had felt it at other times in her life—the fear of being trapped. Sometimes it didn’t bother her, but other times it made her sick.
Her knees now stung and her elbows ached, but she ran until her legs felt as if they were on fire, too. The clouds and the mountains were in the way, so she couldn’t even see if the smoke from the explosion was in front of her or if she was running in the other direction. It didn’t matter.
And then she could run no further, and she fell to her bruised knees. Lucy came upon her, and Faye gathered the little girl in her arms and sobbed. Jasper fell to the ground next to them and held them tight.
They didn’t know how long it was, but it was a long time— maybe minutes, maybe more. Finally, legs shaking, the three stood, clinging, as if letting go of each other would take away what strength they had as one. They walked to Noah, who had ceased his rocking and simply lay on his side. Reaching for him, Faye helped Noah to his feet. Silently they walked back to the car.
Wallace—Wallace was alone in the car, curled into a very small ball on the backseat. He looked up, but it was as if he didn’t see them through his swollen eyes and foggy glasses. He had not been able to save his mother years ago, and he had not been able to save his father now. Maybe the burners he used for smelting the metal alloys had somehow triggered the explosion. Maybe if he had made those electro-magnetic torches, the train wouldn’t have needed so much fire. Maybe this was somehow his fault.
Once the others were back in the car, they could not speak. Their strength and their voices had given way to grief. It became very quiet, as each child began to search a broken heart for some answer—trying to reason, trying to deny what their eyes had seen. Leaning back in his seat, Noah put his arm around Wallace, who, curled tight, was so still it was frightening, and Faye put her arm around Noah. Brother and sister leaned close to the others, Jasper feeling Faye’s hand slip into his. He squeezed the warmth of that living hand as if it brought life back into him by being there. There was nothing left in the world—nothing but each other
Jas
per didn’t realize he had been biting his lip so hard until he tasted the salty blood. He didn’t realize he had been clenching the fist of the arm that was around Lucy. He had been digging his hand so hard into the corner of the door that, when he opened his hand, he found his knuckles raw and his palms bruised.
He found that waves of anger peppered the sorrow that wrenched his soul. How could they leave him to take care of Lucy? But he knew this feeling was not reasonable—or was it?
Jasper stole a look at Faye, who clung now to her amulet. He could see the blazing in her eyes and knew she, too, had begun to feel anger. How could he feel anger when his parents had been killed? Guilt washed over him, only to be replaced by fear, and then anger again—and then sorrow.
In time, Lucy cried herself to sleep, now occasionally waving and sniffling from Jasper’s lap where she lay. “Mummy,” she would sob, or “Miss Brett,” or “Daddy.” Then she would whimper, “Mr. Silly Black Bonnet.” They were all gone.
Soon, amidst sniffs and sobs, they all fell into a fitful sleep.
It was the sound that woke Jasper first. As his eyes reluctantly opened, he saw that the light had definitely waned in the sky. It must be late in the afternoon, he thought. He had been dreaming that he and Lucy were sailing little boats in the milk jug on the picnic blanket Miss Brett had laid. He and his sister each had a stick that they used to push the boats. “Mind the milk,” he kept saying to Lucy.
As he woke, he couldn’t quite remember where he was, and found that his empty hands were gripping a stick that was not there. Then, as his twilight sleep receded, he tried desperately to return to his dream. He did not want to wake. He did not want to know. He was fighting what he would find when his eyes were truly open.
But he could not fight it. In a flood, visions came pouring in like an unfriendly tide—visions that revealed the last moments before the car drove away. And he remembered.
Lucy had curled into a ball in Faye’s lap. Faye, sleeping, held Lucy’s hand, gently, occasionally pulling it to her cheek, whining softly in her unsteady sleep. It made Faye seem so fragile.
As Faye stirred, Jasper was careful not to look at her or show he was aware of her fragility. He knew that she would not want that.
Wallace and Noah had fallen asleep together. Wallace had burrowed into Noah’s chest. Noah was snoring.
And then Jasper heard the sound again.
He looked out the window of the moving motorcar. He could see the last sliver of sun disappearing behind the high ridge of hills. As he watched the sky turn orange in the first fading light, he heard it. He blinked. It must have been his imagination. But then he heard it again. It made no sense.
Noah jumped up. Faye sat up, too. And then they all heard it.
“It’s the train,” Wallace said. “It’s the sound of the train whistle.”
“It can’t be.” Faye rubbed her swollen red eyes. “It’s a different train.”
But the whistle came again, and it was getting louder
And then they saw it. As they came around the bend, there it was.
But it was impossible. It simply could not be. It had to be a different train. But, no, it was theirs. It was the one they had seen explode. The one containing everyone they loved. The one that was gone.
“It’s our train!” shouted Lucy. “It’s come back for us!”
“Lucy,” Jasper said gently. This simply could not be. It could not.
“Look!” Lucy pointed. “It is!” And now tears were coming down her cheeks as a smile spread across her face. The waving of her arm wiped the tears away.
Jasper looked. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. It really did look like their train. In fact, it looked exactly like their train.
“But it can’t be,” Noah said, unbelieving. “We all saw it go up in smoke. It was . . . It couldn’t . . .”
“I’m sure there must be some explanation,” said Jasper, who did not sound sure of this at all. “Perhaps we only thought . . .” But he could not say
“Maybe we’re all asleep,” said Noah. “Or dead.”
“I’m not dead!” Lucy yelled, sticking her tongue out and trying to catch it between her fingers. “I’m not dead, and I’ve heard it. That means you’re not dead and they’re not dead and everybody else isn’t dead, either.”
As the motorcar approached and the sky darkened in earnest, the children were all pressed against the door that faced south. From there, they could see inside the train. The car slowed as they drove alongside it. The children could see the fireplace still lit in the salon. They could see the dining car, food on the table. They could even see inside Faye’s bedroom, where everything seemed to be in place: her beautiful bed, and the soft silks that hung from the walls. Even the beads on the mirror were visible from the window.
And they saw through Noah’s window, too, where the impression on the glass from Noah’s nose and Wallace’s forehead could be seen clearly, as the dying light from the outside made it visible from the light on the inside. There was the smudge, and the crumbs, and the jam.
And then the motorcar stopped. The driver got out and opened the door. In slow motion, the five passengers emerged. They just stood there, staring at the train they had seen destroyed. It was like looking at a ghost.
“But that’s impossible,” said Jasper in disbelief, speaking in little more than a whisper. He stepped gingerly toward the train and, with hesitation, touched it.
“It’s really real, Jasper,” insisted Lucy, her eyes as wide as saucers. “It really truly is really truly real.”
“Yes,” Jasper said, “it certainly feels like it’s real.”
“Haven’t you learned?” said Noah, wiping his eyes. “Nothing is impossible anymore.”
“Please,” Lucy said to herself, her hands clasped under her chin and her eyes shut tight, “please belong to us, you lovely lovely train. Please belong to us.” She opened her eyes.
At the top of the stairs of the dining car was the man in the black bonnet. He stood for a moment, gathering his skirt as he descended the stairs.
“Hooray!” shouted Lucy, looking up at the sky. “Thank you, lucky star!”
“Dinner upon the table,” said the black bonnet man in a gruff voice, gesturing for the children to climb aboard.
“Mr. Silly Black Bonnet!” cried Lucy. She ran up to him and clung to his leg. “It’s you, isn’t it? It is you!” she said, tears in her eyes as she looked up at the man attached to the leg she held. “Is it really the same you? It is, oh, it is!”
“I . . . It is me,” he said in a very awkward voice, unable to extricate himself from Lucy’s grasp. He seemed to be enduring her affection with great strain.
“Oh, I’m so glad,” said Lucy, clinging all the tighter. “I was so very worried you’d been blown to smoke. You and Miss Brett and Mummy and everyone. I am ever so pleased you are all un-blown up. Truly.”
Standing there with Lucy attached to his leg, the man with the bonnet seemed to be at a loss as to what to do. He took one step back into the train with Lucy still attached. He was not able to get Lucy off his leg—that is, until Lucy jumped back on her own and screamed with pleasure.
The diminutive man with the black chefs hat stepped out from behind the man in the bonnet.
“Mr. Cheffy Hat!” said Lucy, throwing her arms around the waist of the other man, who was significantly shorter than the first. “Oh, you’ve not been exploded either! You’re all in one bit!”
Suddenly running down the stairs, pushing past Mr. Cheffy Hat and Mr. Silly Black Bonnet, came a very anxious teacher.
“Miss Brett!” all the children shouted as they ran to her, surrounding her in rather painfully hard embraces.
But Miss Brett returned them. She was as white as a sheet and looked deeply at each child as if to be sure that they, too, were really there. Faye’s normally severe expression was gentle and soft, and Noah just laughed through falling tears.
“I wished and wished and wished,” Lucy kept saying as sh
e twisted around in Miss Brett’s skirts. Wallace simply held tightly to Miss Brett’s arm as if letting go might send her floating off into the universe, beyond his reach forever.
Jasper, however, looked deeply into Miss Brett’s eyes. She hoped her eyes gave him some relief—that she was here, and here for them. It was Jasper who worried her the most, because Jasper did not only have himself to take care of—he had Lucy, too. Being responsible for another life was quite a lot for a young boy
With effort, Miss Brett tore her eyes away from his to look upon the others—that, and by averting her eyes, Jasper wouldn’t see how terrified she had been only moments before.
“What happened?” she asked them, tears pouring down her already reddened face faster than she could wipe them away. “I thought . . . I truly thought . . .” But she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“You tell us,” said Noah. “We all thought you were gone.”
“You thought . . . but I . . . we . . . you mean, you thought we were gone?” she asked.
“We saw . . . we thought we saw . . .” Wallace could not get it out. Somehow, even though they were all together now, the thought of saying what he saw felt too real, as if it would suddenly make that the horrid truth and make everything else disappear.
“There was a terrible explosion,” said Miss Brett, “and I . . . I . . .” But she could not say, either. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she just shook her head as if to loosen the horrible thoughts trapped in there.
“Exploded,” said Lucy who had managed to squeeze through everyone else to get to the center, arms around her teacher’s waist.
“Exploded?” Miss Brett said, confused. “Me?” She suddenly felt the need to get everyone safely back onto the train. Standing out there in the middle of nowhere, she felt more vulnerable, and she felt the children more vulnerable here than if they were inside. She felt this now that she knew they were safe. As she swallowed her words, she decided not to tell them how terrified she had been. She decided not to tell them what she had seen, right before her eyes— how it was she who had thought the worst had happened to them.
The Ravens of Solemano or The Order of the Mysterious Men in Black Page 4
